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THE    LIFE    OF 
JOHN    HENRY   CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

VOL.  II 


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THE   LIFE   OF 

JOHN  HENRY  CARDINAL  NEWMAN 


BASED   ON    HIS   PRIVATE   JOURNALS 
AND   CORRESPONDENCE 


BY 

WILFRID    WARD 


IN   TWO    VOLUMES 
VOLUME   II 


WITH  PORTRAITS 


SECOND    IMPRESSION 


LONGMANS,    GREEN,     AND    CO. 

39    PATERNOSTER    ROW,    LONDON 

NEW   YORK,    BOMBAY    AND    CALCUTTA 

1912 


CONTENTS 


OF 


THE     SECOND     VOLUME 


CHAPTER. 

XX.    The  Writing  of  the  'Apologia'  (1864) 
XXI.    Catholics  at  Oxford  (1864-1865)  . 
XXII.    A  New  Archbishop  (1865-1866) 

XXIII.  The  'Eirenicon'  (1865-1866)    . 

XXIV.  Oxford  Again  (1866-1867) 
XXV.    The  Appeal  to  Rome  (1867)     . 

XXVI.  The  Deadlock  in  Higher  Education  (1867) 

XXVII.  Papal  Infallibility  (1867-1868) 

XXVIII.  'The  Grammar  of  Assent'  (1870)   . 

XXIX.  The  Vatican  Council  (1869-1870)    . 

XXX.  Life  at  the  Oratory        .... 

XXXI.  After  the  Council  (1871-1874) 

XXXII.  The  Gladstone  Controversy  (1874-1878) 

XXXIII.  The  Cardinalate  (1879)    .... 

XXXIV.  Final  Tasks  (1880-1886)     .... 

XXXV.  Last  Years  (i 881-1890)      .... 

Appendices 

Index    


I 

47 

79 

99 
121 

151 
186 
200 
242 
279 

3^3 
371 
397 

433 
472 
512 

539 
593 


?K 


\t  ^  ) 


v.x 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

TO 

THE   SECOND    VOLUME 

PORTRAIT  {1884)    (Photogravure) Frontispiece 

From  a  Crayon  Drawing  by  Emmeline  Deane,  by  permission  0/  the 
Autotype  Fine  Art  Company,  Ltd. 

DR.     NEWMAN     AND     FATHER     AMBROSE     ST.     JOHN     , 

FATHER    AMBROSE    ST.  JOHN j   To  face  p.  80 

From  Photographs 

PORTRAIT  (1873) 37^ 

From  an  Engraving  by  Joseph  Brown 

CARDINAL  NEWMAN 

433 

From  a  Painting  by  W.  IV.  Ouless,  R.A.,  at  the  Oratory,  Birtningham 

{^Reproduced  by  kind  permission  oj  Messrs.  Burns  df   Oates,  Ltd., 
the  owners  of  the  copyright.) 

GROUP   PHOTOGRAPHED   IN   ROME,   in   May   1879    .         .  ,,  438 

CARDINAL    NEWMAN    (about  1882)  472 

From  a  P.kotograph 

FACSIMILE  OF  FIRST  AND  LAST   PAGES  OF  A  LETTER 

TO  MR.  WILFRID  WARD.  March   16,   1885 497 

CARDINAL  NEWMAN   {1889) ,512 

From  a  Photograph  by  Father  Anthony  Pollen 


J/1508IJ. 


LIFE 

OF 

CARDINAL  NEWMAN 

CHAPTER    XX 

THE   WRITING   OF   THE   'APOLOGIA'   (1864) 

At  Christmas  1863  there  appeared  in  Maanillan's  Maga- 
zine a  review  by  Charles  Kingsley  of  J.  A.  Fronde's  '  History 
of  England.'     In  it  occurred  the  following  passage  : 

'  Truth  for  its  own  sake  had  never  been  a  virtue  with  the 
Roman  clergy.  Father  Newman  informs  us  that  it  need  not 
be,  and  on  the  whole  ought  not  to  be  ; — that  cunning  is  the 
weapon  which  Heaven  has  given  to  the  Saints  wherewith  to 
withstand  the  brute  male  force  of  the  wicked  world  which 
marries  and  is  given  in  marriage.  Whether  his  notion  be 
doctrinally  correct  or  not,  it  is,  at  least,  historically  so.' 

Newman  wrote  to  the  publishers,  not,  he  said,  to  ask  for 
reparation,  but  'to  draw  their  attention  as  gentlemen  to  a 
grave  and  gratuitous  slander.'  Kingsley  at  once  wrote  to 
him  as  follows,  acknowledging  the  authorship  of  the  review  : 

'  Reverend  Sir, — I.  have  seen  a  letter  of  yours  to  Mr. 
Macmillan  in  which  you  complain  of  some  expressions  of 
mine  in  an  article  in  the  January  number  of  Maanillan's 
Magazine. 

'That  my  words  were  just,  I  believed  from  many  pas- 
sages of  your  writings  ;  but  the  document  to  which  I  ex- 
pressly referred  was  one  of  your  sermons  on  "  Subjects  of  the 
Day,"  No.  XX  in  the  volume  published  in  1844,  and  entitled 
"  Wisdom  and  Innocence." 

VOL.  II.  B 


2  LIFE    OF    CARDINAL    NEWMAN 

*  It  was  in  consequence  of  that  sermon  that  I  finally 
shook  ofif  the  strong  influence  which  your  writings  exerted 
on  me,  and  for  much  of  which  I  still  owe  you  a  deep  debt  of 
gratitude. 

*  I  am  most  happy  to  hear  from  you  that  I  mistook  (as  I 
understand  from  your  letter)  your  meaning ;  and  I  shall  be 
most  happy,  on  your  showing  me  that  I  have  wronged  you, 
to  retract  my  accusation  as  publicly  as  I  have  made  it. 

'  I  am.  Reverend  Sir, 

Your  faithful  servant, 

Charles  Kingsley.' 

The  retort  was  obvious — Newman  was  not  yet  a 
Catholic  priest  in  1844  when  he  wrote  his  sermon.  More- 
over, he  wrote  to  Kingsley  pointing  out  that  there  were 
no  words  in  the  sermon  expressing  any  such  opinion  as 
Kingsley  had  ascribed  to  him.  To  this  simple  statement 
of  fact  Kingsley  never  replied.  In  the  course  of  their 
correspondence,  however,  he  said  :  '  the  tone  of  your  letters 
makes  me  feel  to  my  very  deep  pleasure  that  my  opinion  of 
the  meaning  of  your  words  is  a  mistaken  one.'  But 
Kingsley's  afiiinus  was  naively  shown  in  the  amefide 
which  he  offered  to  publish. 

The  proposed  apology  ran  as  follows  :  *  Dr.  Newman 
has,  by  letter,  expressed  in  the  strongest  terms,  his  denial 
of  the  meaning  which  I  have  put  upon  his  words.  No  man 
knows  the  use  of  words  better  than  Dr.  Newman  ;  no  man, 
therefore,  has  a  better  right  to  define  what  he  does,  or  does 
not,  mean  by  them.  It  only  remains,  therefore,  for  me  to 
express  my  hearty  regret  at  having  so  seriously  mistaken 
him,  and  my  hearty  pleasure  at  finding  him  on  the  side  of 
truth,  in  this,  or  any  other  matter.' 

Newman  naturally  objected  to  the  passages  stating  that 
'  no  man  knows  the  meaning  of  words  better  than  Dr. 
Newman,'  and  that  Mr.  Kingsley  was  glad  to  find  him  '  on 
the  side  of  truth,  in  this,  or  any  other  matter.'  Kingsley 
withdrew  them.  But  he  would  not  change  the  gist  of  the 
letter,  which  implied  that  Newman  had  explained  away 
his  own  words  ;  whereas  (as  Newman  pointed  out  again) 
Kingsley  had  not  confronted  him  with  any  words  at  all. 

Newman  quoted  the  opinion  of  a  friend,  to  whom  he 
showed  Kingsley's  amended  apology,  that  it  was  insufficient, 


THE  WRITING   OF  THE    'APOLOGIA'   (1864)  3 

but  it  appeared  without  further  change  in  Macmillan's 
Magazine  for  February,  and  ran  as  follows  :  '  Dr.  Newman 
has  expressed,  in  the  strongest  terms,  his  denial  of  the 
meaning  I  have  put  on  his  words.  It  only  remains,  there- 
fore, for  me  to  express  my  hearty  regret  at  having  so 
seriously  mistaken  him.' 

To  the  more  or  less  apathetic  onlooker  this  amende  might 
have  appeared  sufficient.  An  apology  had  been  made,  and 
had  been  called  by  the  man  who  made  it,  a  '  hearty '  one. 
But  Newman  judged  otherwise.  The  apology  was  merely 
conventional.  It  accepted  politely  Newman's  disclaimer 
of  having  meant  what  he  seemed  to  mean.  But  the  real 
accusation  Kingsley  had  to  meet  was  that  he  had  ascribed  to 
Newman  views  which  he  had  never  expressed  at  all,  or  could 
be  fairly  charged  with  seeming  to  mean.  Newman  saw  his 
opportunity  and  pressed  his  argument.  Kingsley  declined 
to  do  more  by  way  of  apology,  and  said  he  had  done  as 
much  as  one  English  gentleman  could  expect  from  another. 
Newman  published  the  correspondence  between  them,  with 
the  following  witty  caricature  of  Kingsley's  argument : 

'  Mr.    Kingsley    begins    then    by    exclaiming :  "  Oh,    the 

chicanery,   the    wholesale    fraud,    the    vile    hypocrisy,    the 

conscience-killing  tyranny  of   Rome !     We  have  not  far  to 

seek    for    an   evidence    of  it  !     There's    Father  Newman  to 

^it  J — one  living  specimen    is  worth  a  hundred  dead  ones, 

He  a  priest,  writing  of  priests,  tells  us  that  lying  is  never  any 

harm."     I  interpose:  "You  are  taking  a  most  extraordinary 

liberty  with  my  name.     If  I  have  said  this,  tell  me  when  and 

where."     Mr.  Kingsley  replies  :  "  You  said  it,  reverend  Sir, 

in  a  sermon  which  you  preached  when  a  Protestant,  as  vicar 

of  St.  Mary's,  and  published  in  1844,  and  I  could  read  you  a 

very  salutary  lecture  on  the  effects  which  that  sermon  had 

at  the  time  on  my  own  opinion  of  you."     I  make  answer  : 

"  Oh  .  .  .  not,  it  seems,  as  a  priest  speaking  of  priests  ;  but 

let  us  have  the  passage."     Mr.  Kingsley  relaxes  :  "  Do  you 

know,  I  like  your  tone.     From  your  tone  I  rejoice, — greatly 

rejoice, — to  be  able  to  believe  that  you  did  not  mean  what 

you  said."     I   rejoin  :  "  Mean  it !      I  maintain  I  never  said  it, 

whether  as  a  Protestant  or  as  a  Catholic  ! "     Mr.  Kingsley 

replies:  "I  waive  that  point."     I    object:  "Is    it  possible? 

What?     Waive  the    main  question?     I    either  said  it  or  I 

didn't.     You  have  made  a  monstrous  charge  against  me — 

B  2 


4  LIFE    OF   CARDINAL    NEWMAN 

direct,  distinct,  public  ;  you  are  bound  to  prove  it  as  directly, 

as  distinctly,  as    publicly,  or   to  own  you  can't ! "     "  Well," 

says  Mr.  Kingsley,  "  if  you  are  quite  sure  you  did  not  say 

it,   I'll  take  your  word  for  it, —  I  really  will."     "My  tvordl" 

I  am  dumb.     Somehow  I  thought  that  it  was  my  word  that 

happened  to  be  on  trial.     The  woi^d  of  a  professor  of  lying 

that  he  does  not  lie  !     But  Mr.  Kingsley  reassures  me.     "  We 

are  both  gentlemen,"  he  says,  "  I  have  done  as  much  as  one 

English  gentleman  can  expect  from    another."     I  begin  to 

see :  he  thought  me  a  gentleman  at  the  very  time  that  he 

said  I  taught  lying  on  system.     After  all  it  is  not  I,  but  it 

is  Mr.  Kingsley  who  did  not  mean  what  he  said.     Habetmis 

confitentcm  reum.     So   we   have  confessedly  come  round  to 

this,  preaching   without    practising;  the  common    theme  of 

satirists  from  Juvenal  to  Walter  Scott.    "  I  left  Baby  Charles 

and  Steenie  laying  his  duty  before  him,"  says  King  James  of 

the  reprobate  Dalgarno  ;  "  Oh  Geordie,  jingling  Geordie,  it 

was  grand    to    hear    Baby    Charles    laying   down    the   guilt 

of  dissimulation  and  Steenie  lecturing  on  the  turpitude   of 

incontinence." ' 

In  spite  of  the  extreme  brilliancy  of  this  sally  it  is  likely 
enough  that  the  British  public,  with  its  anti-Catholic  preju- 
dices, would  have  charged  Newman  with  hyper-sensitiveness 
and  ill-temper,  and  considered  that  the  popular  writer  against 
whom  the  sally  was  directed  had  really  made  ample  amends 
by  his  apology.     But  at  this  juncture  there  intervened  a  man 
who  was  already  becoming  a  power,  by  force  of  intellect  and 
character,  in   the  world  of  letters.     Richard    Holt    Hutton, 
editor  of  the  Spectator,  was  a  Liberal  in  politics,  until  lately 
a  Unitarian    in   religion,   a  known    admirer   of  Kingsley,  a 
sympathiser  with  the  Liberal  theology  of  Frederick  Denison 
Maurice.     It  was  to  his  intervention  that  an  able  critic — the 
late  Mr.  G.  L.  Craik,  who  well  remembered  the  controversy 
and  whose  theological  sympathies  were  with  Kingsley — used 
confidently  to  ascribe  the  direction  which  public  opinion,  in 
many  instances  trembling  in  the  balance,  took  at  this  moment, 
and  ultimately  took  with  overwhelming  force.      All  Hutton's 
antecedents  seemed  to  be  against  any  unfair  partiality  on 
Newman's  behalf.     But  he  had  been  for  years  keenly  alive  to 
spiritual  genius  wherever  it  showed  itself— in  Martineau,  in 
Maurice,  as  well  as  in  Newman.     He  had  followed  Newman's 
writings  and  career  with  deep  interest  and  had  been  present 


THE   WRITING   OF  THE   'APOLOGIA'   (1864)         5 

(as  we  have  seen)  at  the  King  William  Street  lectures  in 
1849.  Endowed  with  a  justice  of  mind  which  only  a  few  men 
in  each  generation  can  boast,  and  which  makes  them  judges 
in  Israel,  he  had  an  ingrained  suspiciousness  of  the  unfairness 
of  the  English  public  where  '  Popery '  was  concerned,  and 
felt  the  need  to  guide  it  aright.  He  saw  fully  the  injus- 
tice of  Kingsley's  method.  On  February  20  he  published  in 
the  Spectator  an  estimate  of  the  controversy,  raised  on  that 
judicial  platform  of  thought  from  which  the  most  unfailingly 
effective  argument  proceeds.  He  allowed  for  the  popular  feeling 
that  Newman's  retort  was  too  severe,  and  even  admitted  it. 
But  in  his  fine  psychological  study  of  the  two  men  he  pointed 
out  a  looseness  of  thought,  a  prejudice,  a  want  of  candour  in 
Kingsley,  which  were  at  the  root  both  of  his  original  offence 
and  of  his  insufficient  apology,  and  summed  up  very  strongly 
in  Newman's  favour.     He  wrote  as  follows  : 

'  Mr.  Kingsley  has  just   afforded,  at  his  own  expense,  a 
genuine    literary  pleasure   to    all  who  can    find    intellectual 
pleasure  in  the  play  of  great  powers  of  sarcasm,  by  bringing 
Father  Newman  from  his  retirement  and  showing,  not  only 
one  of  the  greatest  of  English  writers,  but  perhaps  the  very 
greatest    master   of  delicate   and    polished    sarcasm    in    the 
English  language,  still  in  full  possession  of  all  the  powers 
which  contributed  to  his  wonderful  mastery  of  that  subtle  and 
dangerous  weapon.     Mr.  Kingsley  is  a  choice  though  perhaps 
too  helpless  victim  for  the  full  exercise  of  Father  Newman's 
powers.     But   he    has    high    feeling    and    generous   courage 
enough  to  make  us  feel  that  the  sacrifice  is  no  ordinary  one  ; 
yet  the  title  of  one  of  his  books, — "  Loose  Thoughts  for  Loose 
Thinkers  " — represents  too  closely  the  character  of  his  rough 
but  manly  intellect,  so  that  a  more  opportune  Protestant  ram 
for   Father  Newman's   sacrificial    knife   could  scarcely  have 
been  found  ;  and,  finally,  the  thicket  in  which  he  caught  him- 
self was,  as  it  were,  of  his  own  choosing,  he  having  rushed 
headlong  into  it  quite  without  malice,  but  also  quite  without 
proper  consideration  of  the  force  and  significance  of  his  own 
words.     Mr.  Kingsley  is  really  without  any  case  at  all  in  the 
little  personal  controversy  we  are  about  to  notice ;  and  we 
think  he  drew  down  upon  himself  fairly  the  last  keen  blow 
of  the   sacrificial   knife   by  what  we  must   consider  a  very 
inadequate  apology  for  his  rash  statement. 

'  Mr.   Kingsley,  in  the  ordinary   steeplechase   fashion    in 
which  he  chooses  not  so  much  to  think  as  to  splash  up  thought 


6  LIFE    OF    CARDINAL    NEWMAN 

— dregs  and  all — (often  very  healthy  and  sometimes  very 
noble,  but  always  very  loose  thought),  in  one's  face,  had  made 
a  random  charge  against  Father  Newman  in  Macmillan's 
Magazine.  .  .  .  The  sermon  in  question,  which  we  have  care- 
fully read,  certainly  contains  no  proposition  of  the  kind  to 
which  Mr.  Kingsley  alludes,  and  no  language  even  so  like  it 
as  the  text  taken  from  Our  Lord's  own  words,  "  Be  ye  wise 
as  serpents  and  harmless  as  doves," 

'.  .  .  We  must  say  that  the  whole  justice  of  the  matter 
seems  to  us  on  Dr.  Newman's  side,  that  Mr.  Kingsley  ought 
to  have  said,  what  is  obviously  true,  that,  on  examining  the 
sermon  no  passage  will  bear  any  colourable  meaning  at  all 
like  that  he  had  put  upon  it.  And  yet  it  is  impossible  not 
to  feel  that  Dr.  Newman  has  inflicted  almost  more  than 
an  adequate  literary  retribution  on  his  opponent ;  more  than 
adequate,  not  only  for  the  original  fault,  but  for  the  yet  more 
faulty  want  of  due  candour  in  the  apology.  You  feel  some- 
how that  Mr.  Kingsley's  little  weaknesses,  his  inaccuracy  of 
thought,  his  reluctance  to  admit  that  he  had  been  guilty  of 
making  rather  an  important  accusation  on  the  strength  of  a 
very  loose  general  impression,  are  all  gauged,  probed,  and 
condemned  by  a  mind  perfectly  imperturbable  in  its  basis 
of  intellect  though  vividly  sensitive  to  the  little  superficial 
ripples  of  motive  and  emotion  it  scorns.' 

Newman  had  burnt  his  ships,  and  had  probably  been 
prepared  for  a  strong  verdict  against  him  and  in  favour  of  so 
popular  a  writer  as  Kingsley,  on  the  part  of  that  very  anti- 
Popish  person,  the  John  Bull  of  1864.  Button's  was  a  most 
seasonable  and  valuable  intervention.  By  admitting  and 
allowing  for  the  most  obvious  ground  of  public  criticism  on 
Newman — the  excessiveness  of  the  castigation  he  had  ad- 
ministered— the  Spectator  was  all  the  more  effective  in  its 
strong  justification  of  Newman's  main  position  in  the  con- 
troversy. The  article  gave  him  keen  pleasure  and  he  v/rote 
his  thanks  to  the  Spectator,  which  brought  a  generous 
private  letter  from  Hutton  himself.  Newman  replied  to  it  as 
follows  : 

'  The  Oratory,  Birmingham  :  February  26th,  1864. 

*  My  dear  Sir,— Your  letter  gave  me  extreme  pleasure. 
Though  I  contrive  to  endure  my  chronic  unpopularity,  and 
though  I  believe  it  to  be  salutary,  yet  it  is  not  in  itself 
welcome  ;  and  therefore  it  is  a  great  relief  to  me  to  have  from 


THE   WRITING  OF  THE   'APOLOGIA'   (1864)  7 

time  to  time  such  letters  as  yours  which  serve  to  show  that, 
under  the  surface  of  things,  there  is  a  kinder  feeling  towards 
me  than  the  surface  presents. 

'  I  ought  to  tell  you  that  when  I  wrote  my  letter  to  the 
editor  of  the  Spectator  the  other  day,  I  had  only  seen  the 
first  part  of  your  article  as  it  was  extracted  in  the  Birming- 
ham paper.  .  .  . 

'  I  thanked  you  for  your  article  when  I  saw  only  part  of 
it,  on  the  ground  of  its  being  so  much  more  generous  than 
the  ordinary  feeling  of  the  day  allows  reviewers  commonly  to 
behave  towards  me.  I  thank  you  still  more  for  it  as  I  now 
read  it  with  its  complement, — first  because  it  is  evidently 
written,  not  at  random,  but  critically,  and  secondly  because  it  is 
evidently  the  expression  of  real,  earnest,  and  personal  feeling. 
How  far  what  you  say  about  me  is  correct  can  perhaps  be 
determined  neither  by  you  nor  by  me,  but  by  the  Searcher  of 
hearts  alone ;  but,  even  where  I  cannot  follow  you  in  your 
criticism,  I  am  sure  I  get  a  lesson  from  it  for  my  serious 
consideration. 

*  But  I  have  said  enough,  and  subscribe  myself  with 
sincere  goodwill  to  you,  my  dear  Sir, 

'  Very  faithfully  yours, 

John  H.  Newman.' 

Kingsley,  who  was  doubtless  persuaded  that  his  apology 
to  Newman  was  a  very  handsome  one,  and  unconscious  how 
his  own  judgment  was  warped  by  his  antipathy  to  everything 
that  Newman  represented  in  his  eyes,  now  changed  his  tone, 
and,  in  a  pamphlet  called  '  What  then  does  Dr.  Newman 
mean  ? '  fully  justified  the  estimate  Newman  had  formed  of 
his  true  attitude  of  mind — an  attitude  which  had  prevented 
Newman,  at  the  outset,  from  accepting  an  apology  which  he 
felt  to  be  grudging  and  not  in  the  fullest  sense  sincere.  How 
deep  and  habitual  Kingsley's  feeling  of  animosity  was,  we 
see  from  some  words  written  while  his  pamphlet  was  in  pre- 
paration, to  a  correspondent  who  had  called  his  attention  to 
a  passage  in  W.  G.  Ward's  '  Ideal  of  a  Christian  Church  '  which 
appeared  to  justify  Kingsley's  charge  against  Newman  and 
his  friends.  '  Candour,'  Mr.  Ward  had  written,  '  is  an  in- 
tellectual rather  than  a  moral  virtue,  and  by  no  means  either 
universally  or  distinctively  characteristic  of  the  saintly  mind.' 
If  'candour'  meant  'truthfulness,'  such  an  admission  was 
surely  significant. 


8  LIFE   OF    CARDINAL    NEWMAN 

Kingsley  replied  that  he  was  using  the  passage  from 
Ward's  book  in  his  forthcoming  pamphlet,  and  added  :  '  I 
am  answering  Newman  now,  and  though  of  course  I  give 
up  the  charge  of  conscious  dishonesty,  I  trust  to  make 
him  and  his  admirers  sorry  that  they  did  not  leave  me  alone. 
I  have  a  score  of  more  than  twenty  years  to  pay,  and  this  is 
an  instalment  of  it' ' 

It  is  necessary  for  the  reader  to  have  before  him 
specimens  of  the  tone  and  temper  of  Kingsley's  pamphlet 
that  he  may  appreciate  the  effect  it  produced,  and  the  pro- 
vocation under  which  Newman  considered  himself  justified 
in  writing  as  he  subsequently  did. 

The  general  line  of  argument  in  the  pamphlet  may  perhaps 
be  put  thus  :  '  Newman's  words  looked  like  the  view  which  I 
imputed  to  him.  I  have  accepted  his  statement  that  he  did 
not  so  mean  them.  But  if  he  did  not,  what  does  he  mean  ?  ' 
The  reader  looks  in  vain,  however,  for  a  passage  in  which 
Kingsley  quotes  any  words  of  Newman's  which  justify  his  ori- 
ginal statement.  The  nearest  approach  to  any  such  attempt  at 
justification  is  in  his  analysis  of  the  sermon  on  '  Wisdom  and 
Innocence,'  where  he  points  out  how  Newman  admits  that 
Christians  have  been  charged  with  cunning,  though  he  main- 
tains that  such  appearances  are  due  only  to  the  arts  of  the 
defenceless.  '  If,'  he  writes, '  Dr.  Newman  told  the  world,  as 
he  virtually  does  in  this  sermon,  "  I  know  that  my  conduct 
looks  like  cunning,  but  it  is  only  the  arts  of  the  defence- 
less," what  wonder  if  the  world  answer  "  No,  it  is  what  it 
seems  "  ? ' 

But  Mr.  Kingsley  was  thoroughly  roused.  If  the  sermon 
did  not  supply  what  he  wanted,  he  could  go  further  afield  for 
evidence.  And  he  could  make  fresh  charges.  He  continued 
in  a  style  which  bears  curious  witness  to  the  profound  and 
undiscriminating  aversion  to  Newman's  whole  attitude  which 
lay  at  the  root  of  his  original  attack.  Passing  by  the  '  tortu- 
ous '  Tract  90,  and  claiming  the  recognition  of  his  generosity 
in  so  doing,  he  speaks  of  the  Puseyite  '  Lives  of  the  Saints,' 
edited  by  Newman  in  1843,  ^^  witnessing  to  his  flagrant 
untruthfulness.     Entirely    failing   to    understand    Newman's 

'  These  words  are  quoted  by  Father  Ryder  in  his  Recollections  ;  vide  infra, 
P-  351- 


THE   WRITING   OF  THE   'APOLOGIA'   (1864)  9 

philosophy  of  miracle,  he  speaks  of  those  '  Lives '  as  simply 
deliberate  perversions  of  historical  truth.  Newman's  view, 
it  need  hardly  be  said,  was  that  there  are  certain  antecedent 
probabilities  recognised  by  one  who  is  already  a  Catholic, 
which  make  the  marvels  handed  down  by  tradition  credible 
to  him  as  'pious  beliefs,'  although  they  may  not  be  histori- 
cally proved.  He  admitted  as  much  as  Kingsley  that  they 
could  not  be  established  by  canons  of  evidence  accepted 
by  those  who  did  not  grant  the  antecedent  probabilities. 
Such  a  view  as  this,  whether  right  or  wrong,  is  never 
even  glanced  at  by  Mr.  Kingsley,  who  treats  the  '  Lives ' 
as  simply  a  tissue  of  infantile  folly  and  untruthfulness 
combined. 

Kingsley  recalls  Newman's  statement  in  the  '  Present  Posi- 
tion of  Catholics,'  that  he  thinks  the  '  holy  coat  of  Treves ' 
may  be  what  it  professes  to  be,  and  that  he  firmly  believes  that 
portions  of  the  True  Cross  are  in  Rome  and  elsewhere ;  that 
he  believes  in  the  presence  of  the  Crib  of  Bethlehem  in  Rome  ; 
that  he  cannot  withstand  the  evidence  for  the  liquefaction  of 
Januarius'  blood  at  Naples  and  the  motion  of  the  eyes  of 
the  images  of  the  Madonna  in  Italy.  No  one  knew  better 
than  Newman  himself  that,  to  the  ordinary  common-sense 
Protestant  Englishman,  such  beliefs  must  seem  ludicrous 
and  childish  superstitions.  But  Newman  had  very  cogently 
pointed  out  that,  judged  by  the  canons  of  reason  apart  from 
the  antecedent  presumptions  of  religious  minds,  miracles  in 
Holy  Writ  which  the  Protestant  Englishman  never  questions, 
and  accepts  from  custom  and  education,  are  also  incredible. 
That  Jonah  spent  three  days  in  the  interior  of  a  whale 
is  a  belief  not  easier  to  justify  by  reason  than  the  wonders 
referred  to  above,  and  Mr.  Kingsley,  it  was  to  be  presumed, 
accepted  this  miraculous  narrative  himself  But  the  whole 
philosophical  ground  for  Newman's  readiness  to  believe  is 
passed  by  without  notice  by  Kingsley.  He  throws  before  his 
readers  as  beyond  the  reach  or  necessity  of  argument  the 
above  avowals  of  folly  and  superstition.  And  he  changes 
his  earlier  charge  of  untruthfulness  and  insincerity  for  one  of 
arrant  and  avowed  fatuity. 

'  How  art  thou  fallen  from  Heaven,'  he  writes,  '  O  Lucifer, 
son  of  the  Morning  ! 


lo  LIFE   OF    CARDINAL    NEWMAN 

'But  when  I  read  these  outrages  upon  common  sense, 
what  wonder  if  I  said  to  myself:  "  This  man  cannot  believe 
what  he  is  saying  "  ? 

'  I  believe  I  was  wrong.  I  have  tried,  as  far  as  I  can,  to 
imagine  to  myself  Dr.  Newman's  state  of  mind  ;  and  I  see 
now  the  possibility  of  a  man's  working  himself  into  that 
pitch  of  confusion  that  he  can  persuade  himself,  by  what 
seems  to  him  logic,  of  anything  whatsoever  which  he  wishes 
to  believe  ;  and  of  his  carrying  self-deception  to  such  per- 
fection that  it  becomes  a  sort  of  frantic  honesty  in  which  he 
is  utterly  unconscious,  not  only  that  he  is  deceiving  others, 
but  that  he  is  deceiving  himself. 

'  But  I  must  say :  If  this  be  "  historic  truth,"  what  is 
historic  falsehood?  If  this  be  honesty,  what  is  dishonesty? 
If  this  be  wisdom,  what  is  folly  ? 

'  I  may  be  told  :  But  this  is  Roman  Catholic  doctrine. 
You  have  no  right  to  be  angry  with  Dr.  Newman  for  be- 
lieving it.  I  answer  :  This  is  not  Roman  Catholic  doctrine, 
any  more  than  belief  in  miraculous  appearances  of  the 
Blessed  Virgin,  or  the  miracle  of  the  Stigmata  (on  which 
two  matters  I  shall  say  something  hereafter).  No  Roman 
Catholic,  as  far  as  I  am  aware,  is  bound  to  believe  these 
things.  Dr.  Newman  has  believed  them  of  his  own  free  will. 
He  is  anxious,  it  would  seem,  to  show  his  own  credulity. 
He  has  worked  his  mind,  it  would  seem,  into  that  morbid 
state  in  which  nonsense  is  the  only  food  for  which  it  hungers. 
Like  the  sophists  of  old,  he  has  used  reason  to  destroy 
reason.  I  had  thought  that,  like  them,  he  had  preserved 
his  own  reason  in  order  to  be  able  to  destroy  that  of  others. 
But  I  was  unjust  to  him,  as  he  says.  While  he  tried  to 
destroy  others'  reason,  he  was,  at  least,  fair  enough  to  destroy 
his  own.  That  is  all  that  I  can  say.  Too  many  prefer  the 
charge  of  insincerity  to  that  of  insipience, — Dr.  Newman 
seems  not  to  be  of  that  number.  ...  If  I,  like  hundreds  more, 
have  mistaken  his  meaning  and  intent,  he  must  blame  not 
me,  but  himself  If  he  will  indulge  in  subtle  paradoxes,  in 
rhetorical  exaggerations  ;  if,  whenever  he  touches  on  the  ques- 
tion of  truth  and  honesty,  he  will  take  a  perverse  pleasure  in 
saying  something  shocking  to  plain  English  notions,  he  must 
take  the  consequences  of  his  own  eccentricities. 

'  What  does  Dr.  Newman  mean  ?  He  assures  us  so 
earnestly  and  indignantly  that  he  is  an  honest  man, 
believing  what  he  says,  that  we  in  return  are  bound,  in 
honour  and  humanity,  to  believe  him  ;  but  still, — what  does 
he  mean  ? ' 


THE   WRITING   OF  THE   'APOLOGIA'  (1864)         11 

It  would  be  tedious  to  follow  Mr.  Kingsley  through  his 
many  instances.  They  all  show  that  Newman's  views  are  a 
sealed  book  to  him.  These  views  doubtless  admit  of  expert 
criticism  when  once  they  are  understood.  But  Mr.  Kingsley 
does  not  attempt  to  master  them.  His  impatience  prevents 
all  discrimination.  Thus  Newman's  very  candid  admissions 
in  his  Lecture  on  the  '  Religious  State  of  Catholic  Coun- 
tries '  are  taken  as  showing  that  Newman  almost  admires  the 
crimes  of  the  Neapolitan  thief  Newman  argued  that  a 
Catholic  might  steal  as  another  may  steal  ;  this  does  not 
make  stealing  in  him  less  evil  ;  still,  he  may  have  faith 
which  the  other  had  not.  Faith  is  one  thing,  good  works 
another.  They  are  separable  qualities.  Mr.  Kingsley  holds  up 
his  hands.  Further  argument  is  indeed,  he  holds,  useless 
and  unnecessary  with  a  man  who  says  such  things  as  this. 

*  And  so  I  leave  Dr.  Newman,'  he  concludes,  '  only  ex- 
pressing my  fear  that,  if  he  continues  to  "  economize  "  and 
"  divide  "  the  words  of  his  adversaries  as  he  has  done  mine, 
he  will  run  great  danger  of  forfeiting  once  more  his  reputation 
for  honesty.' 

Every  line  of  this  pamphlet  speaks  of  an  indignant  man 
who  is  convinced  that  he  has  much  the  best  case  in  the  dispute, 
and  who  cannot  bring  himself  to  conceal  his  contemptuous 
dislike  for  his  opponent.  Mr.  Hutton,  who  vigilantly  took 
note  of  each  move  in  the  game,  formed  a  very  different  esti- 
mate from  Kingsley 's  of  the  pamphlet,  and  of  the  situation. 
On  its  appearance  he  again  took  the  field,  and  in  the  course 
of  an  article  of  five  columns  gave  the  following  estimate  of 
its  drift  and  quality  : 

'  Mr.  Kingsley  replies  in  an  angry  pamphlet,  which  we 
do  not  hesitate  to  say  aggravates  the  original  injustice  a 
hundredfold.  Instead  of  quoting  language  of  Dr.  Newman's 
fairly  justifying  his  statement,  he  quotes  everything  of  almost 
any  sort,  whether  having  reference  to  casuistry,  or  to  the 
monastic  system,  or  the  theory  of  Christian  evidences,  that 
will  irritate,— often  rightly  irritate, — English  taste  against  the 
Romish  system  of  faith,  and  every  apology  or  plea  of  any 
kind  put  in  by  Dr.  Newman  in  favour  of  that  faith.  He 
raises,  in  fact,  as  large  a  cloud  of  dust  as  he  can  round  his 
opponent,  appeals  to  every  Protestant  prepossession  against 


12  LIFE    OF    CARDINAL    NEWMAN 

him,  reiterates  that  "  truth  is  not  honoured  among  these  men 
for  its  own  sake,"  giving  a  very  shrewd  hint  that  he  includes 
Dr.  Newman  as  chief  amongst  the  number,  and  retires 
without  vindicating  his  assertion  in  the  least,  except  so  far 
as  to  prove  that  there  was  quite  enough  that  he  disliked 
or  even  abhorred  in  Dr.  Newman's  teaching  to  suggest  such 
an  assertion  to  his  mind, — his  latent  assumption  evidently 
being  that  whatever  Mr.  Kingsley  could  say  in  good  faith 
it  could  not  have  been  unjustifiable  for  him  to  say,  Mr. 
Kingsley  evidently  holds  it  quite  innocent  and  even  praise- 
worthy to  blurt  out  raw  general  impressions,  however 
inadequately  supported,  which  are  injurious  and  painful  to 
other  men,  on  condition  only  that  they  are  his  own  sincere 
impressions.  He  has  no  mercy  for  the  man  who  will  define 
his  thought  and  choose  his  language  so  subtly  that  the  mass 
of  his  hearers  may  fail  to  perceive  his  distinctions,  and  be 
misled  into  a  dangerous  error, — because  he  cannot  endure 
making  a  fine  art  of  speech.  Yet  he  permits  himself  a 
perfect  licence  of  insinuation  so  long  as  these  insinuations 
are  suggested  by  the  vague  sort  of  animal  scent  by  which 
he  chooses  to  judge  of  other  men's  drift  and  meaning.  .  .  . 
Mr.  Kingsley  has  done  himself  pure  harm  by  this  rejoinder.' 

The  phrase  '  animal  scent '  was  an  expressive  one,  and 
told  with  great  effect.  It  characterised  mercilessly  the 
sheer  prejudice  which  led  to  Mr.  Kingsley's  insinuations. 

Newman  felt  the  value  of  Hutton's  renewed  support  at 
this  critical  moment,  and  wrote  to  him  again  : 

'The  Oratory,  Birmingham:   Easter  Day,  1S64.    March  27th. 

'  My  dear  Sir, — I  have  read  an  article  on  Mr.  Kingsley 
and  myself  in  the  Spectator  which  I  cannot  help  attributing 
to  you.  Excuse  me  if  I  take  a  liberty  in  doing  so.  Whoever 
wrote  it  I  thank  him  with  all  my  heart.  I  hope  I  shall  be 
never  slow  to  confess  my  faults,  and,  if  I  have,  while  becoming 
a  Catholic,  palliated  things  really  wrong  among  Catholics  in 
order  to  make  my  theory  of  religion  and  my  consequent  duty 
clearer,  I  am  very  sorry  for  it, — and  I  know  I  am  not  the 
best  judge  of  myself, — but  Mr.  Kingsley's  charges  are  simply 
monstrous.  I  can't  tell  till  I  read  the  article  again  carefully 
how  far  I  follow  you  in  everything  you  say  of  me, —  though 
it  is  very  probable  I  shall  do  so  except  in  believing  (which  I 
do)  that  I  am  both  logically  and  morally  right  in  being  a 
Catholic,  but  it  is  impossible  not  to  feel  that  you  have  uttered 
on  the  whole  what  I  should  say  of  myself,  and  to  see  that 


THE   WRITING   OF  THE   'APOLOGIA'   (1864)         13 

you  have  done  me  a  great  service  in  doing  so,  as  bearing  an 
external  testimony. 

'  Let  me  on  this  day,  after  the  manner  of  Catholics,  wish 
you  the  truest  Paschale  gaudiuvi,  and  assure  you  that  I  am 

'  Most  sincerely  yours, 

John  H.  Newman. 

'  P.S. — On  reading  this  over  I  have  some  fear  lest  I 
should  incur  some  criticism  from  you  in  your  mind  on  what 
you  seemed  to  think  in  a  former  instance,  mock  humility, — 
but,  if  you  knew  me  personally,  I  don't  think  you  would 
say  so.' 

But  it  soon  proved  that  the  goodwill  towards  Newman 
was  general  in  the  English  press.  Though  no  other  journal 
showed  the  close  knowledge  of  his  work  which  Mr.  Hutton 
possessed,  and  though  others  fell  short  of  the  Spectator  in 
understanding  and  sympathy,  respect  and  consideration  were 
general.  The  issue  may  have  been  doubtful  so  long  as 
Kingsley's  attack  had  been  but  a  brief  paragraph  for  which 
he  apologised,  but  by  his  virulent  pamphlet  he  overreached 
himself 

Newman  saw  at  once  that  he  would  now  have  a  hearing 
such  as  had  never  yet  been  open  to  him  for  a  vindication  of 
his  whole  life-work.  For  a  moment  he  thought  of  answering 
Kingsley  in  a  course  of  lectures.  But  a  little  more  thought 
led  to  the  plan  of  publishing  in  weekly  parts  an  account  and 
explanation  of  his  life-story.  The  reason  for  his  determi- 
nation to  publish  rather  than  to  lecture  lay  in  the  nature  of 
such  an  account,  and  is  expressed  in  the  following  letter  to 
Mr.  Hope-Scott : 

'  Confidential.  The  Oratory,  Birmingham:  April  I2th,  1864. 

'  My  dear  Hope-Scott, — It  is  curious  that  the  plan  of 
lectures  is  one  about  which  Ambrose  (St.  John)  was  hot,  and 
I  had  all  but  determined  on  it,  but  I  was  forced  to  abandon 
it  from  the  nature  of  my  intended  publication  ;  I  have  taken 
a  resolution,  about  which  I  shall  be  criticized,- yet  I  do  it, 
though  with  anxiety,  yet  with  deliberation. 

'  Men  who  know  me,  the  tip-top  education  of  London 
and  far  gone  Liberals,  will  not  accuse  me  of  lying  or 
dishonesty — but  e.g.  the  Brummagems,  and  the  Evangelical 
party,  &c.,  &c.,  do  really  believe  mc  to  be  a  clever  knave. 


14  LIFE    OF   CARDINAL    NEWMAN 

Moreover  I  have  never  defended  myself  about  various  acts  of 
mine,  e.g.  No.  90,  so  I  am  actually  publishing  a  history  of  my 
opinions.  Now  it  would  have  been  impossible  to  read  this  out. 
'  I  am  so  busy  with  composing  that  I  have  no  time  for 
more.  My  answer  will  come  out  in  numbers  on  successive 
Thursdays,  beginning  with  the  21st. 

'  Ever  yours  affectionately, 

John  H.  Newman 

of  the  Oratory.' 

Every  day  made  clearer  to  Newman  the  existence  of 
such  a  state  of  public  feeling  in  his  regard  as  promised  not 
only  attention,  but  even  sympathy.  He  knew  too  well, 
however,  that  a  defender  of  the  Catholic  priesthood  from  the 
charge  of  unstraightforwardness  before  such  a  jury  as  the 
British  public  was  at  a  very  heavy  disadvantage,  and  not  the 
least  remarkable  feature  in  his  defence  was  the  skill  with 
which,  in  his  opening  pages  (now  long  out  of  print),  he  set 
himself  to  counteract  this  adverse  influence.  His  unfailing 
insight  into  human  motive  told  him  that  success  depended 
on  the  initial  attitude  of  mind  in  his  judges,  and  it  was  ex- 
clusively to  securing  a  favourable  attitude  that  he  devoted 
the  first  fifty  pages  of  the  original  '  Apologia.' '  It  is  the 
skill  he  shows  in  persuading  a  mixed  public  and  ensuring  its 
favour  which  is  most  memorable  in  these  pages.  He  had  to 
present  to  the  reader  a  convincing  picture  of  himself  as 
o-ratuitously  slandered  and  assailed,  as  pleading  in  the  face  of 
the  bitterest  prejudice,  as  throwing  himself  on  the  generosity 
of  the  British  public,  and  relying  on  their  justice  for  fair  play 
in  a  contest  dishonourably  provoked. 

He  had  with  equally  convincing  pen  to  depict  the  crude, 
rou"-h,  blundering,  impulsive,  deeply  prejudiced  mind  of 
Kino-sley,  to  bring  into  view  his  inferiority  of  intellectual  fibre, 
and  thus  to  win  credence  for  his  own  retort. 

Kingsley  had  chosen  as  the  motto  for  his  pamphlet 
Newman's  assertion  in  one  of  the  University  Sermons  that  in 
some  cases  a  lie  is  the  nearest  approach  to  truth.  Newman 
notes  in   these  introductory  pages    the  appositeness  of  the 

'  These  pages  were  Parts  I.  and  II.  of  the  successive  numbers.  They  were 
republished  only  in  the  first  edition  of  the  Apologia,  which  is  now  very  rare. 
From  them  and  from  the  Appendix  (also  out  of  print)  I  give  long  extracts 
because  they  are  singularly  characteristic  of  the  writer,  and  are,  I  believe, 
generally  unknown. 


THE   WRITING   OF  THE   'APOLOGIA'  (1864)        15 

motto,  for  '  Mr.  Kingsley's  pamphlet  is  emphatically  one  of 
such  cases.  ...  I  really  believe  that  his  view  of  me  is  about 
as  near  an  approach  to  the  truth  about  my  writings  and 
doings  as  he  is  capable  of  taking.  He  has  done  his  worst 
towards  me,  but  he  has  also  done  his  best'  Newman  de- 
picts him  as  in  this  attack  simply  narrow-minded.  His  failure 
to  comprehend  a  mind  unlike  his  own  is  an  illustration  of 
a  wide  law :  '  children  do  not  apprehend  the  thoughts  of 
grown-up  people,  nor  savages  the  instincts  of  civilisation.' 

Against  the  blind  contempt  of  Kingsley,  who  hesitated 
between  '  knavery  '  and  '  silliness  '  as  the  true  charge  against 
his  antagonist,  Newman  levels  the  piercing  scorn  of  the 
wider  and  more  penetrating  mind.  It  is  the  scorn  of  the 
civilised  man,  who  sees  and  analyses  the  defects  of  barbarism, 
pitted  against  the  scorn  of  barbarism,  that  hates,  fears, 
and  despises  the  civilisation  which  it  cannot  understand. 
Kingsley  had  taken  up  the  position  of  the  manly  English- 
man, of  the  advocate  of  chivalrous  generosity,  against  the 
shifty  Papist,  the  '  serpentine  '  dealer  in  '  cunning  and  sleight- 
of-hand  logic'  Newman  not  only  drives  his  opponent  from 
the  vantage  ground,  but  occupies  it  himself,  transferring  to 
Kingsley  the  reproach  of  a  disingenuousness  which  sought 
to  poison  the  minds  of  the  public  and  divert  their  gaze  from 
the  actual  issue. 

Mr.  Kingsley  had  rather  grandly  announced  that  he  was 
precluded  ' "  en  hault  courage "  and  in  strict  honour '  from 
proving  his  original  charge  from  others  of  Newman's  writings 
except  the  sermon  on  '  Wisdom  and  Innocence.'  '  If  I 
thereby  give  him  a  fresh  advantage  in  this  argument,'  he 
added,  '  he  is  most  welcome  to  it.  He  needs,  it  seems  to 
me,  as  many  advantages  as  possible.'  Newman  quotes  these 
words  with  the  comment :  '  What  a  princely  mind  !  How 
loyal  to  his  rash  promise ;  how  delicate  towards  the  subject 
of  it ;  how  conscientious  in  his  interpretation  of  it ! ' 

But  what  was  the  actual  exhibition  of  noble  straight- 
forwardness which  the  advocate  of  '  hault  courage  '  provided  ? 
A  whole  mass  of  insinuation  without  any  substantiation  of 
the  original  charge  of  untruthfulness  ;  and  a  re-hash  of  such 
conventional  imputations  against  the  Papist  as  might  stir  up 
popular  bigotry  to  his  detriment. 


i6  LIFE    OF    CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

*  When  challenged,'  Newman  continues,  '  he  cannot  bring 
a  fragment  of  evidence  in  proof  of  his  assertion,  and  he  is 
convicted  of  false  witness  by  the  voice  of  the  world.  Well, 
I  should  have  thought  that  he  had  now  nothing  whatever 
more  to  do.  Vain  man  !  he  seems  to  make  answer,  what 
simplicity  in  you  to  think  so !  If  you  have  not  broken  one 
commandment,  let  us  see  whether  we  cannot  convict  you  of 
the  breach  of  another.  If  you  are  not  a  swindler  or  forger, 
you  are  guilty  of  arson  or  burglary.  By  hook  or  by  crook 
you  shall  not  escape.  Are  you  to  suffer  ox  1}  What  does 
it  matter  to  you  who  are  going  off  the  stage  to  receive  a 
slight  additional  daub  upon  a  character  so  deeply  .stained 
already  ?  But  think  of  me, — the  immaculate  lover  of  truth, 
so  observant  (as  I  have  told  you,  p.  8)  of  "  hault  courage " 
and  "  strict  honour,"  and  (aside) — and  not  as  this  publican — 
do  you  think  I  can  let  you  go  scot  free  instead  of  myself? 
No  ;  "  noblesse  oblige."  Go  to  the  shades,  old  man,  and  boast 
that  Achilles  sent  you  thither.' 

This  method  of  wholesale  insinuation  and  imputation  was 
not,  Newman  contended,  fair  play  as  Englishmen  understand 
it.  And,  worse  still,  was  the  attempt  to  discount  before- 
hand every  detailed  reply  by  repeating  in  aggravated  form 
the  charge  of  shiftiness  and  untruthfulness,  and  coupling 
Newman's  method  with  that  of  Roman  casuists  whom  John 
Bull  abominated. 

'  He  is  down  upon  me,'  the  '  Apologia  '  continues, '  with  the 
odious  names  of  "  St.  Alfonso  da  Liguori,"  and  "  Scavini " 
and  "  Neyraguet"  and  "the  Romish  moralists,"  and  their 
"compeers  and  pupils,"  and  I  am  at  once  merged  and 
whirled  away  in  the  gulf  of  notorious  quibblers  and  hypo- 
crites and  rogues.' 

And  the  writer  proceeds  to  cite  from  Mr.  Kingsley's 
pamphlet  such  sentences  as  the  following : 

'  I  am  henceforth  in  doubt  and  fear^  Mr.  Kingsley  writes, 
'  as  much  as  any  honest  man  can  be,  concerning  every  word 
Dr.  Newman  may  write.  How  can  I  tell  that  I  shall  not 
be  dupe  of  some  cunning  equivocation,  of  one  of  the  three  kinds 
laid  down  as  permissible  by  the  Blessed  Alfonso  da  Liguori 
and  his  pupils,  even  when  confirmed  by  an  oath,  because 
"  then   we   do    not   deceive    our   neighbour,   but    allow  him 


THE  WRITING   OF  THE   'APOLOGIA'  (1864)        17 

to  deceive  himself?  ...  It  is  admissible,  therefore,  to  use 
words  and  sentences  which  have  a  double  signification  and 
leave  the  hapless  hearer  to  take  which  of  them  he  may 
choose."  What  proof  have  /,  then,  that  by  "  Mean  it  ?  I 
never  said  it !  "  Dr.  Newman  does  not  signify,  "  I  did  not  say 
it,  but  I  did  mean  it  "  ?  '  ^ 

It  is  this  throwing  doubt  beforehand  on  every  word  which 
the  accused  might  say  in  self-defence  which  Newman  called 
'  poisoning  the  wells.' 

'If  I  am  natural  he  will  tell  them:  "  Ars  est  celare 
artem "  ;  if  I  am  convincing  he  will  suggest  that  I  am  an 
able  logician  ;  if  I  show  warmth,  I  am  acting  the  indignant 
innocent ;  if  I  am  calm,  I  am  thereby  detected  as  a  smooth 
hypocrite ;  if  I  clear  up  difficulties  I  am  too  plausible  and 
perfect  to  be  true.  The  more  triumphant  are  my  statements, 
the  more  certain  will  be  my  defeat.' 

'  It  is  this,'  he  writes  later  on,  '  which  is  the  strength  of  the 
case  of  my  accuser  against  me  ;  not  his  arguments  in  them- 
selves which  I  shall  easily  crumble  into  dust,  but  the  bias  of 
the  court.  It  is  the  state  of  the  atmosphere  ;  it  is  the  vibra- 
tion all  around  which  will  more  or  less  echo  his  assertion  of 
my  dishonesty ;  it  is  that  prepossession  against  me  which 
takes  it  for  granted  that,  when  my  reasoning  is  convincing, 
it  is  only  ingenious,  and  that  when  my  statements  are 
unanswerable  there  is  always  something  put  out  of  sight 
or  hidden  in  my  sleeve  ;  it  is  that  plausible,  but  cruel, 
conclusion  to  which  men  are  so  apt  to  jump,  that  when  much 
is  imputed  something  must  be  true,  and  that  it  is  more  likely 
that  one  should  be  to  blame  than  that  many  should  be 
mistaken  in  blaming  him  ; — these  are  the  real  foes  which  I 
have  to  fight,  and  the  auxiliaries  to  whom  my  accuser  makes 
his  court. 

'  Well,  I  must  break  through  this  barrier  of  prejudice 
against  me,  if  I  can  ;  and  I  think  I  shall  be  able  to  do  so. 
When  first  I  read  the  pamphlet  of  Accusation,  I  almost 
despaired  of  meeting  effectively  such  a  heap  of  misrepre- 
sentation and  such  a  vehemence  of  animosity.  .  .  .'^ 

Yet  the  defence,  Newman  maintains,  must  be  made.  The 
charge  of  untruthfulness  is  pre-eminently  one  in  which  a  man 
must  and  can  put  himself  right  with  his  fellow-men. 

'Mankind  has  the  right,'  he  continues,  'to  judge  of 
truthfulness  in    the   case  of  a    Catholic,  as    in    the   case  of 

'  Apoloqia  (original  edition),  pp.  22-23.  **  ^^>^^-  P-  44- 

VOL.  II.  C 


1 8  LIFE    OF   CARDINAL    NEWMAN 

a  Protestant,  or  an  Italian,  or  of  a  Chinese.  I  have  never 
doubted  that  in  my  hour,  in  God's  hour,  my  avenger  will 
appear  and  the  world  will  acquit  me  of  untruthfulness,  even 
though  it  be  not  while  I  live. 

'  Still  more  confident  am  I  of  such  eventual  acquittal, 
seeing  that  my  judges  are  my  own  countrymen.  I  think, 
indeed.  Englishmen  the  most  suspicious  and  touchy  of 
mankind  ;  I  think  them  unreasonable  and  unjust  in  their 
seasons  of  excitement ;  but  I  had  rather  be  an  Englishman 
(as  in  fact  I  am)  than  belong  to  any  other  race  under 
Heaven.  They  are  as  generous  as  they  are  hasty  and 
burly ;  and  their  repentance  for  their  injustice  is  greater 
than  their  sin.' ' 

As  to  the  form  of  the  reply,  Newman  explains  that  a 
very  brief  reflection  told  him  that  a  mere  detailed  meeting  of 
Kingsley's  random  charges  would  be  inadequate.  The  man 
Newman  was  suspected  ;  a  false  picture  of  a  sly  and  untruth- 
ful casuist  had  been  presented  to  the  public.  For  this  man  to 
reply  was  waste  of  breath  and  ink.  A  true  picture  must  be 
substituted, — a  true  account  of  life,  motive,  career.  Another 
Newman  must  be  placed  before  the  English  nation  —  a 
Newman  whom  it  would  trust. 

'My  perplexity  did  not  last  half  an  hour.  I  recognised 
what  I  had  to  do  though  I  shrank  from  both  the  task  and  the 
exposure  which  it  would  entail.  I  must,  I  said,  give  the  true 
key  to  my  whole  life ;  I  must  show  what  I  am  that  it  may 
be  seen  what  I  am  not,  and  that  the  phantom  may  be 
extinguished  which  gibbers  instead  of  me.  I  wish  to  be 
known  as  a  living  man,  and  not  as  a  scarecrow  which  is 
dressed  up  in  my  clothes.  False  ideas  may  be  refuted 
indeed  by  argument,  but  by  true  ideas  alone  are  they 
expelled.     I  will  vanquish,  not  my  accuser,  but  my  judges.'  ^ 

The  first  and  second  parts  of  the  '  Apologia,'  from  which 
the  above  extracts  are  made,  appeared  on  April  21  and  28. 
Sir  Frederick  Rogers — the  friend  whose  advice  generally 
represented  sound  worldly  judgment  in  Newman's  eyes 
— wrote  on  reading  the  first  part  with  some  misgiving  as 
to  its  effect  on  the  public,  and  the  probable  effect  of  what  was 
to  follow,  if  it  were  in  the  same  strain,  as  indicative  of  over- 
great  personal  sensitiveness.     In  particular  he  deprecated  the 

'  Apologia,  p.  30.  *  Ibid.  p.  48. 


THE  WRITING   OF  THE   'APOLOGIA'  (1864)        19 

element  of  sarcasm  and  the  personal  strictures  on  Kingsley 
which  characterised  the  first  part. 
Newman's  reply  is  as  follows  : 

'The  Oratory,  Birmingham  :  April  22nd,  1864. 

'  My  dear  Rogers, — Your  letter  has  given  me  a  good  deal 
of  anxiety  as  being  the  sort  of  judgment  of  a  person  at  a 
distance.  I  understood  it  to  say  that  I  ought  to  have  let 
well  alone,  and  that,  (knowing  I  had  got  the  victory),  I  have 
shown  a  savageness  which  will  provoke  a  reaction.  I  had 
considered  all  this  before  I  began. 

'  However,  I  am  now  in  for  it ;  and,  if  I  am  wrong,  have 
set  myself  to  the  most  trying  work  which  I  ever  had  to  do 
for  nothing.  During  the  writing  and  reading  of  my  Part  3, 
I  could  not  get  on  from  beginning  to  end  for  crying.  .  .  . 

'  However,  I  am  in  for  it  and  I  am  writing  against  time. 
I  have  no  intention  of  saying  another  hard  word  against 
Mr.  Kingsley.  That  is  all  I  can  do  now  if  I  have  been  too 
severe.     I  am  in  for  it, — and  must  go  through  it. 

'  Yours  affectionately, 

John  H.  Newman.' 

Old  Oxford  friends  had  to  be  consulted  in  order  to  ensure 
accuracy  in  the  narration  of  the  events  of  the  Movement. 
Copeland— who  edited  the  later  editions  of  the  Parochial 
Sermons — had,  as  we  have  seen,  been  one  of  the  first  to 
resume  friendly  relations  with  Newman  after  the  breach  of 
1845.  And  now  by  his  advice  Newman  wrote  to  an 
older  and  dearer  friend — R.  W.  Church,  afterwards  Dean  of 
St.  Paul's — for  help  which  was  willingly  accorded. 

'  Private.  The  Oratory,  Birmingham  :  April  23rd,  1864. 

'  My  dear  Church, — Copeland  encourages  me  to  write  to 
you.  I  am  in  one  of  the  most  painful  trials  in  which  I  have 
ever  been  in  my  life  and  I  think  you  can  help  me. 

'  It  has  always  been  on  my  mind  that  perhaps  some  day 
I  should  be  called  on  to  defend  my  honesty  while  in  the 
Church  of  England.  Of  course  there  have  been  endless  hits 
against  me  in  newspapers,  reviews  and  pamphlets, — but, 
even  though  the  names  of  the  writers  have  come  out  and 
have  belonged  to  great  men,  they  have  been  anonymous 
publications, — ^or  else  a  sentence  or  two  on  some  particular 
point  has  been  the  whole.  But  I  have  considered  that,  if 
anyone  with  his  name  made  an  elaborate  charge  on  me,  I 

c  2 


20  LIFE    OF    CARDINAL    NEWMAN 

was  bound  to  speak.     When  Maurice  in  the  Times  a  year 
ago  attacked  me,  I  answered  him  at  once. 

'  But  I  have  thought  it  very  unlikely  that  anyone  would 
do  so, — and  then,  I  am  so  indolent  that,  unless  there  is  an 
actual  necessity,  I  do  nothing.     In  consequence  now,  when 
the  call  comes  on  me,  I  am  quite  unprepared  to  meet  it.     I 
know  well  that  Kingsley  is  a  furious  foolish  fellow, — but  he 
has  a  name, — nor  is  it  anything  at  all  to  me  that  men  think 
I  got  the  victory  in  the  Correspondence  several  months  ago, — 
that  was  a  contest  of  ability, — but  now  he  comes  out  with  a 
pamphlet  bringing  together  a  hodge  podge  of  charges  against 
me  all  about  dishonesty.     Now  friends  who  know  me  say  : 
"  Let  him  alone, — no  one  credits  him,"  but  it  is  not  so.     This 
very  town  of  Birmingham,  of  course,  knows  nothing  of  me, 
and  his  pamphlet  on  its  appearance  produced  an  effect.     The 
evangelical  party  has  always  spoken  ill  of  me,  and  the  pam- 
phlet seems   to  justify   them.      The  Roman  Catholic  party 
does  not    know  me  ; — the    fathers  of  our  school    boys,  the 
priests,  &c.,  &c.,  whom  I  cannot  afford  to  let  think  badly  of 
me.     Therefore,  thus  publicly  challenged,  I  must  speak,  and, 
unless  I  speak  strongly,  men  won't  believe  me  in  earnest. 

*  But  now  I  have  little  more  to  trust  to  than  my  memory. 
There  are  matters  in  which  no  one  can  help  me,  viz.  those 
which  have  gone  on  in  my  own  mind,  but  there  is  also  a 
great  abundance  of  public  facts,  or  again,  facts  witnessed  by 
persons  close  to  me,  which  I  may  have  forgotten.  I  fear  of 
making  mistakes  in  dates,  though  I  have  a  good  memory  for 
them,  and  still  more  of  making  bold  generalizations  without 
suspicion  that  they  are  not  to  the  letter  tenable. 

'Now  you  were  so  much  with  me  from  1840  to  1843  or 
even  1845,  that  it  has  struck  me  that  you  could,  (if  you  saw 
in  proof  what  I  shall  write  about  those  years),  correct  any 
fault  of  fact  which  you  found  in  my  statement.  Also,  you 
might  have  letters  of  mine  to  throw  light  on  my  state  of 
mind,  and  this  by  means  of  contemporaneous  authority. 
And  these  are  the  two  matters  I  request  of  you  as  regards 
the  years  in  question. 

'  The  worst  is,  I  am  so  hampered  for  time.  Longman 
thought  I  ought  not  to  delay,  so  I  began,  and,  therefore,  of 
necessity  in  numbers.  What  I  have  to  send  you  is  not  yet 
written.     It  won't  be  much  in  point  of  length. 

'  I  need  hardly  say  that  I  shall  keep  secret  anything  you 
do  for  me  and  the  fact  of  my  having  applied  to  you. 

'  Yours  affectionately, 

John  H.  Newman.' 


THE   WRITING   OF   THE    'APOLOGIA'  (1864)        21 

Church  welcomed  warmly  the  letter  of  his  old  friend,  and 
Newman  wrote  again  : 

'The  Oratory,  Birmingham  :  April  26th,  1864. 

'  My  dear  Church, — Your  letter  is  most  kind,  but  I  am  not 
going  to  take  all  the  assistance  you  offer. 

'  As  you  say,  it  is  almost  an  advantage  in  me  not  to  take 
more  time.  But  I  am  not  writing  a  History  of  the  Movement, 
nor  arguing  out  statements. 

'  Longman  agreed  with  me  that,  if  I  did  anything,  I  must 
do  it  at  once.  Also  that  a  large  book  would  not  be  read. 
For  these  two  reasons  I  have  done  it  as  it  is.  I  heartily 
wish  I  had  begun  a  week  later.  But  Longman  particularly 
insisted  that,  when  once  I  had  begun,  I  should  not  intermit 
a  week. 

'  When  you  see  it  as  a  whole  you  will  not  wonder  at  my 
saying  that,  had  I  delayed  a  month,  I  should  not  have  done 
it  at  all.     It  has  been  a  great  misery  to  me. 

*  I  only  want  to  state  things  as  they  happened,  and  I 
doubt  not  that  your  general  impressions  will  be  enough. 

'  The  chief  part  I  wanted  you  for  is  the  dullest  part  of  the 
whole, — the  sort  of  views  with  which  I  wrote  No.  90.  I  am 
not  directly  defending  it  ;  I  am  explaining  my  view  of  it. 

'  Then  again,  I  fear  you  do  not  know  my  secret  feelings 
when  my  unsettlement  first  began.  But  I  shall  state 
external  generalized  acts  of  mine,  as  I  believe  them  to  be, 
and  you  can  criticize  them. 

'  I  have  no  idea  whatever  of  giving  ^x\y  point  to  what  I  am 
writing,  but  that  I  did  not  act  dishonestly.  And  I  want  to 
state  the  stages  in  my  change  and  the  impediments  which 
kept  me  from  going  faster.  Argument,  I  think,  as  such,  will 
not  come  in, — though  I  must  state  the  general  grounds  of  my 
change. 

'  Your  notion  of  coming  to  me  is  particularly  kind.  But  I 
could  not  wish  it  now,  even  if  you  could.  I  am  at  my  work 
from  morning  to  night.  I  thank  God  my  health  has  not 
suffered.  What  I  shall  produce  will  be  little,  but  parts  I  write 
so  many  times  over. 

'  Ever  yours  affectionately, 

John  H.  Newman.' 

Proofs  were  despatched  on  April  29  with  a  brief  note 
concluding  thus  : 

'Excuse  my  penmanship.  My  fingers  have  been  walking 
nearly  twenty  miles  a  day.' 


22  LIFE    OF    CARDINAL    NEWMAN 

John  Keble  was  also  consulted  —  though  not  at  the 
outset ' : 

'  The  Oratory,  Birmingham  :  April  27/64. 

'  My  very  dear  Keble, — Thank  you  for  your  affectionate 
letter.  When  you  see  part  of  my  publication,  you  will  wonder 
how  I  ever  could  get  myself  to  write  it.  Well,  I  could  not, 
except  under  some  very  great  stimulus.  I  do  not  think  I 
could  write  it,  if  I  delayed  it  a  month.  And  yet  I  have  for 
years  wished  to  write  it  as  a  duty.  I  don't  know  what  people 
will  think  of  me,  or  what  will  be  the  effect  of  it — but  I  wished 
to  tell  the  truth,  and  to  leave  the  matter  in  God's  hands. 

'  Don't  be  disappointed  that  there  is  so  little  in  what 
I  send  you  by  this  post  about  Hurrell.  I  have  attempted 
(presumptuously)  to  draw  him  in  an  earlier  Part ;  it  has 
been  seen  by  William  Froude  and  Rogers.  You  will  not 
see  it  till  it  is  published.     It  is  too  late. 

'  I  am  writing  from  morning  to  night,  hardly  having  time 
for  my  meals.  I  write  this  during  dinner  time.  This  will  go 
on  for  at  least  3  weeks  more. 

'  I  am  glad  you  and  Mrs.  Keble  have  found  the  winter  so 
mild,  for  it  has  been  very  trying  with  us. 

'  I  dare  say,  when  it  comes  to  the  point,  you  will  find 
nothing  you  have  to  say  as  to  what  I  send  you — but  I  am 
unwilling  not  to  have  eyes  upon  it  of  those  who  recollect 
the  history.     You  will  be  startled  at  my  mode  of  writing. 

'  Ever  yours  affectionately, 

John  H.  Newman.' 

Each  part  of  the  '  Apologia '  was  received  with  acclaim 
as  it  appeared  in  weekly  numbers.  Father  Ryder,  already  a 
priest  and  inmate  of  the  Oratory  in  1864,  told  me  that  he 
remembered  on  several  occasions  seeing  Newman  while  in 
course  of  writing.  The  plan  of  the  book  was  first  sketched. 
The  principal  heads  of  narrative  and  argument  and  the 
general  plan  of  the  work  were  written  up  in  their  order  in 
large  letters  on  the  wall  opposite  to  the  desk  at  which  he 
was  doing  his  work. 

>  'What  I  shall  ask  Keble  (as  well  as  you)  to  look  at,'  he  writes  to  Copeland 
on  April  19,  'is  my  sketch  from  (say)  1833  to  1840— but,  mind,  you  will  be 
disappointed— it  is  noi  a  history  of  the  Movement,  but  of  me.  It  is  an  egotistical 
matter  from  beginning  to  end.  It  is  to  prove  that  I  did  not  act  dishonestly. 
I  have  doubts  whether  any  one  could  supply  instead  what  I  have  to  say — but, 
when  you  see  it,  you  will  see  what  a  trial  it  is.  In  writing  I  kept  bursting  into 
tears— and,  as  I  read  it  to  St.  Jolin,  I  could  not  get  on  from  beginning  to  end. 
I  am  talking  of  part  3.' 


THE  WRITING  OF  THE   'APOLOGIA'  (1864)        23 

'The  "Apologia,"  writes  Father  Ryder,  'was  a  great 
crisis  in  Father  Newman's  Hfe.  It  won  him  the  heart  of  the 
country  which  he  has  never  lost  since,  and  bespoke  for  him 
an  enthusiastic  reception  for  all  he  might  write  afterwards. 
Compare  the  niggard  praise  of  the  Times  in  its  reviews 
of  the  volumes  on  University  subjects  with  the  accord  given 
to  post-'  Apologia "  writings  !  The  effort  of  writing  the 
weekly  parts  was  overpowering.  On  such  occasions  he 
wrote  through  the  night,  and  he  has  been  found  with  his 
head  in  his  hands  crying  like  a  child  over  the,  to  him,  well- 
nigh  impossibly  painful  task  of  public  confession  : 

'  Tal  su  quell'  alma  il  cumulo 

Delle  memorie  scese. 
Oh  !  quante  volte  ai  posteri 

Narrar  se  stesso  imprese, 
E  sulle  eterne  pagine 

Cadde  la  stanca  man  !  ' 

'People  could  not  resist  one  who,  after  having  utterly 
discomfited  his  accuser,  took  them  so  simply  and  quietly  into 
his  confidence.' 

Newman's  letters  while  he  was  writing  the  several  parts 
show  at  once  his  scrupulous  accuracy  and  refusal  to  scamp 
his  work  and  the  overwhelming  pressure  which  the  appear- 
ance of  weekly  parts  involved.  For  facts  he  relied  mainly  on 
the  testimony  of  Church  and  Rogers — both  Anglicans,  who 
would  be  the  last  to  give  them  a  Romeward  colour.  His 
loyalty  and  his  chivalrous  scruples  in  thus  using  their  testi- 
mony appear  in  the  course  of  the  following  letters,  which 
help  us  to  form  the  picture  of  these  weeks  of  constant 
strain  : 

'The  Oratory,  Birmingham  :  May  1st,  1864. 

'  My  dear  Rogers, — Thank  you  for  the  trouble  you  have 
been  at.  It  has  been  very  satisfactory  to  have  your  correc- 
tions and  I  have  almost  entirely  adopted  them.  I  suppose  I 
shall  send  you  by  this  post  down  to  about  1839-40,  and  then 
I  shall  stop.  Church  will  look  at  the  part  about  No.  90 
which  ends  that  portion  of  the  history.  But  I  am  dreadfully 
hurried.  That  portion  is  simply  to  be  out  of  my  hands  next 
Friday.  Longman  would  not  let  me  delay,  but  I  can't  be 
sorry,  for  I  really  do  not  think  I  could  possibly  have 
got  myself  to  write  a  line  except  under  strict  com})ulsion. 
I   have    now   been   for    five  weeks    at   it,  from    morning   to 

'  See  Manzoni's  poem.  In  Movie  di  Napolcow. 


24  LIFE    OF   CARDINAL    NEWMAN 

night,  and  I  shall  have  three  weeks  more.  It  is  not  much  in 
bulk,  but  I  have  to  write  over  and  over  again  from  the  neces- 
sity of  digesting  and  compressing. 

'  I  sincerely  wish  only  to  state  facts,  and  may  truly  say 
that  it,  and  nothing  else,  has  been  my  object.  So  far  as  my 
character  is  connected  with  the  fact  of  my  conversion  I  have 
wished  to  do  a  service  to  Catholicism, — but  in  no  other  way. 
I  say  this  because  my  friends  here  think  that  the  upshot  of 
the  whole  tells  against  Anglicanism  ;  but  I  am  clear  that  I 
have  no  such  intention,  and  cannot  at  all  divine  what  people 
generally  will  say  about  me.  I  say  all  this  in  fairness, — it  is 
what  has  made  me  delicate  in  applying  to  Anglican  friends. 

'  Thanks  for  your  offer  of  my  letters,  but  I  have  not  time 
for  them. 

'  Ever  yours  affectionately, 

John  H.  Newman.' 

'The  Oratory,  Birmingham  :  May  2nd,  1864. 

'  My  dear  Church, — Many  thanks  for  the  trouble  you  have 
taken,  the  result  of  which  is  most  satisfactory  to  me. 

'  Your  letters  will  be  of  great  use  to  me  judging  by  the 
first  I  opened.  I  wished  to  write  my  sketch  drawn  up  from 
my  own  memory  first,  and  then  I  shall  compare  it  with  your 
letters.  I  have  not  begun  Part  5  yet,  which  is  from  1839 
to  1845  (except  the  No.  90  matter).  If  possible  I  shall  wish  to 
trouble  you  with  the  slips  on  what  happened  upon  No.  90, — 
I  mean,  in  order  that  you  may  say  whether  you  have  anything 
to  say  against  it. 

*  I  am  in  some  anxiety  lest  I  should  be  too  tired  to  go  on  ; 
but  I  trust  to  be  carried  through.  I  think  I  .shall  send  you  a 
slip  of  Part  4  to-night,  but  it  is  no  great  matter.  It  is  in 
like  manner, —  I  want  your  general  impressions. 

'  I  shall  not  dream  of  keeping  for  good  the  letters  which 
you  have  sent  me.  I  want  you  to  have  them  that  you  may 
not  forget  me. 

'  Don't  suppose  I  shall  say  one  word  unkind  to  the  Church 
of  England,  at  least  in  my  intentions.  My  friends  tell  me 
that,  as  a  whole,  what  I  have  written  is  unfavourable  to 
Anglicanism, — that  may  be,  according  to  their  notions, — for 
I  simply  wrote  to  state  facts,  and  I  can  truly  say,  and  never 
will  conceal,  that  I  have  no  wish  at  all  to  do  anything  against 
the  Establishment  while  it  is  a  body  preaching  dogmatic 
truth,  as  I  think  it  does  at  present. 

'  Ever  yours  affectionately, 

John  H.  Newman.' 


THE   WRITING   OF  THE    'APOLOGIA'  (1864)        25 

A  letter  of  sympathetic  interest  from  Hope-Scott  after  the 
appearance  of  the  Second  Part  was  as  balm  to  a  wounded 
spirit,  and  a  sedative  to  racked  nerves.  It  brought  grateful 
thanks  : 

'The  Oratory,  Birmingham  :  May  2nd,  1864. 

'  My  dear  Hope-Scott, — What  good  angel  has  led  you  to 
write  to  me  ?      It  is  a  great  charity. 

'  I  never  have  been  in  such  stress  of  brain  and  such  pain 
of  heart, — and  I  have  both  trials  together.  Say  some  good 
prayers  for  me.  I  have  been  writing  without  interruption 
of  Sundays  since  Easter  Monday — five  weeks — and  I  have  at 
least  three  weeks  more  of  the  same  work  to  come.  I  have 
been  constantly  in  tears,  and  constantly  crying  out  with 
distress.  I  am  sure  I  never  could  say  what  I  am  saying  in 
cold  blood,  or  if  I  waited  a  month  ;  and  then  the  third  great 
trial  and  anxiety,  lest  I  should  not  say  well  what  it  is  so 
important  to  say.  Longman  said  I  must  go  on  without  break 
if  it  was  to  succeed, — but,  as  I  have  said,  I  could  not  h.3Me,  done 
it  if  I  had  delayed. 

*  I  am  writing  this  during  dinner-time, — I  feel  your  kind- 
ness exceedingly. 

'  Ever  yours  most  affectionately, 

John  H.  Newman.' 

Newman's  diary  tells  us  that  while  working  at  Part  3  he 
wrote  one  day  for  sixteen  hours  at  a  stretch.  The  record 
is  reached  in  Part  5,  and  given  in  this  entry :  '  At  my 
"Apologia"  for  22  hours  running.'  June  2  saw  the  end  of 
the  narrative  and  the  publication  of  the  Seventh  Part.  The 
Appendix  remained,  for  which  he  was  allowed  a  fortnight  by 
the  publishers.  lie  was  not  at  first  confident  of  financial 
success.  '  As  to  my  gaining  from  my  book,'  he  wrote  to 
Miss  Holmes,  '  that's  to  be  seen.  The  printing  expenses  will 
be  enormous.  I  should  not  wonder  if  they  were  ;^200.  I 
dreamed  last  night  that  they  were  £700  and  ;{r2oo  besides.  But 
you  must  not  suppose  the  matter  is  on  my  mind,  for  it  isn't' 

The  book  was,  as  I  have  said,  very  carefully  planned  to 
do  its  work  of  persuasion.  The  first  part  was  a  pamphlet  of 
only  27  pages.  It  was  entitled,  '  Mr.  Kingsley's  Method 
of  Disputation.'  As  the  reader  will  have  seen  from  the  ex- 
tracts given  above,  it  sustained  the  note  of  brilliant  banter 
and  repartee  which  had  been  so  effective  in  the  previous 
pamphlet.     It   was  an  immensely  amusing  squib  which  all 


26  LIFE    OF    CARDINAL    NEWMAN 

the  world  could  and  did  enjoy  and  could  read  in  half  an 
hour  or  less.  The  second  part  also,  on  the  '  True  Method  of 
Meeting  Mr.  Kingsley,'  was  of  similar  length  and  almost 
as  light  in  manner  and  quality.  Then  the  reader,  whom 
these  two  parts  had  won  by  their  candour  and  brilliancy, 
and  who  might  be  assumed  to  be  in  the  best  of  humours,  was 
treated  to  fifty  pages  of  autobiography  written  with  all  the 
simplicity  and  beauty  of  style  which  the  writer  had  at  his 
command.  The  quantity  then  grew  as  the  writer  felt  sure 
of  his  public.  Part  4  ran  to  seventy  pages,  parts  5  and  6 
each  to  eighty  pages. 

All  that  was  written — except  the  first  two  parts,  from 
which  I  have  already  given  several  extracts,  and  the  Appen- 
dix— is  contained  in  the  current  edition  of  the  '  Apologia,' 
which  is  probably  known  to  all  readers  of  the  present  book. 
But  a  word  must  be  added  respecting  the  Appendix,  in 
which  he  replies  in  detail  to  Kingsley's  pamphlet  and 
enumerates  the  famous  '  blots '  in  his  arguments,  which  he 
humorously  brings  up  to  the  exact  number  of  the  Thirty-nine 
Articles.  Its  place  in  the  dramiatic  scheme  of  the  work  must 
be  understood.  Parts  i  and  2  were,  as  we  have  seen,  devoted 
to  winning  the  confidence  of  the  reader  and  his  sympathetic 
attention  for  the  narrative  as  a  whole.  Parts  3,  4,  5,  6,  and  7 
gave  the  narrative  of  Newman's  life.  At  the  end  of  this  it 
could  safely  be  assumed  that  the  reader  to  whom  Newman 
had  given  his  whole  confidence,  and  presented  the  picture  of 
a  life  which  so  keen  a  critic  of  his  conclusions  as  J.  A.  Froude 
declared  to  be  absolutely  devoted  to  finding  and  following 
the  truth,  would  have  little  patience  with  Kingsley's  crudely 
offensive  charges  and  misrepresentations.  These  are  accord- 
ingly enumerated  and  answered  in  the  Appendix  one  by 
one, — often  curtly,  with  peremptoriness,  indignantly,  almost 
tartly.  Newman  could  do  this  with  confidence  of  success  at 
the  end  of  his  work.  To  have  confined  himself  to  such  a 
method  or  to  have  taken  this  tone  earlier  would  have  been 
to  run  a  risk.  '  Here  are  two  reverend  gentlemen  in  a 
passion — there  is  little  to  choose  between  them,'  might  have 
been  the  retort  from  the  public.  It  is  noteworthy  that, 
although  this  Appendix  contains  some  brilliant  writing, 
Newman   considered   that  the  justification   for  its  sarcastic 


THE   WRITING   OF  THE   'APOLOGIA'  (1864)        27 

tone  ceased  after  the  occasion  was  past :  and  he  omitted  it  in 
later  editions  of  the  '  Apologia.' 

The  following  is  the  text  of  the  first  seven  '  blots  ' : 

'  My  Sermon  on  "  The  Apostolical  Christian,"  being  the 
19th  of  "Sermons  on  Subjects  of  the  Day." 

'  This  writer  says  :  "  What  Dr.  Newman  means  by 
Christians  ...  he  has  not  left  in  doubt "  ;  and  then,  quoting 
a  passage  from  this  Sermon  which  speaks  of  the  "  humble 
monk  and  holy  nun  "  being  "  Christians  after  the  very 
pattern  given  us  in  Scripture,"  he  observes,  "  This  is  his 
definition  of  Christians  " — p.  9. 

'  This  is  not  the  case.  I  have  neither  given  a  definition 
nor  implied  one  nor  intended  one ;  nor  could  I,  either  now 
or  in  1843-4,  or  at  any  time,  allow  of  the  particular  definition 
he  ascribes  to  me.  As  if  all  Christians  must  be  monks  or 
nuns  ! 

'  What  I  have  said  is  that  monks  and  nuns  are  patterns 
of  Christian  perfection;  and  that  Scripture  itself  supplies 
us  with  this  pattern.  Who  can  deny  this  ?  Who  is  bold 
enough  to  say  that  St.  John  Baptist,  who,  I  suppose,  is  a 
Scripture  character,  is  not  a  pattern-monk  ?  and  that  Mary, 
who  "  sat  at  Our  Lord's  Feet,"  was  not  a  pattern-nun  ?  And 
Anna,  too,  "who  served  God  with  fastings  and  prayers 
night  and  day  "  ?  Again,  what  is  meant  but  this  by  St.  Paul's 
saying :  "  It  is  good  for  a  man  not  to  touch  a  woman  "  ? 
and,  when  speaking  of  the  father  or  guardian  of  a  young  girl : 
"  He  that  giveth  her  in  marriage  doth  well,  but  he  that 
giveth  her  not  in  marriage  doth  better "  ?  And  what  does 
St.  John  mean  but  to  praise  virginity  when  he  says  of 
the  hundred  and  forty-four  thousand  on  Mount  Sion  :  "  These 
are  they  which  were  not  defiled  with  women  for  they  are 
virgins  "  ?  And  what  else  did  Our  Ltnd  mean  when  He  said  : 
"  There  be  eunuchs  who  have  made  themselves  eunuchs  for 
the  Kingdom  of  Heaven's  sake.  He  that  is  able  to  receive 
it,  let  him  receive  it  "  ? 

'  He  ought  to  know  his  logic  better.  I  have  said  that 
"  monks  and  nuns  find  their  pattern  in  Scripture " ;  he 
adds  :  therefore  I  hold  all  Christians  are  monks  and  nuns. 

'  This  is  Blot  one. 

'  Now  then  for  Blot  two. 

' "  Monks  and  nuns  are  the  only  perfect  Christians.  .  .  . 
what  more  ?  " — p.  9. 

'  A  second  fault  in  logic.  I  said  no  more  than  that 
monks  and  nuns  were  perfect  Christians  ;  he  adds,  therefore 


28  LIFE   OF   CARDINAL    NEWMAN 

"  monks  and  nuns  are  the  only  perfect  Christians."  Monks 
and  nuns  are  not  the  only  perfect  Christians ;  I  never 
thought  so  or  said  so  now  or  at  any  other  time. 

'  \\  42.  "  In  the  Sermon  .  .  .  monks  and  nuns  are  spoken 
of  as  the  07ily  true  Bible  Christians."  This  again  is  not  the 
case.  What  I  said  is  that  "  monks  and  nuns  are  Bible 
Christians  ":  it  does  not  follow,  nor  did  I  mean,  that  "  all  Bible 
Christians  are  monks  and  nuns."    Bad  logic  again.    W^ot  three. 

'  My  Sermon  on  "  Wisdom  &  Innocence,"  being  the 
20th  of  "  Sermons  on  Subjects  of  the  Day." 

'  This  writer  says  (p.  8)  about  my  Sermon  20  :  "  By  the 
world  appears  to  be  signified  especially  the  Protestant  public 
of  these  realms." 

'  He  also  asks  (p.  14),  "  Why  was  it  preached  ?  ...  to 
insinuate  that  the  admiring  young  gentlemen  who  listened 
to  him  stood  to  their  fellow-countrymen  in  the  relation  of 
the  early  Christians  to  the  heathen  Romans?  or  that  Queen 
Victoria's  Government  was  to  the  Church  of  England  what 
Nero's  or  Diocletian's  was  to  the  Church  of  Rome  ?  It  may 
have  been  so." 

'  May,  or  may  not ;  it  wasn't.  He  insinuates  what,  not 
even  with  his  little  finger  does  he  attempt  to  prove.  Wiot  four. 

'  He  asserts  (p.  9)  that  I  said  in  the  Sermon  in  question 
that  "  Sacramental  Confession  and  the  Celibacy  of  the  Clergy 
are  notes  of  the  Church."  And,  just  before,  he  puts  the 
word  "  notes  "  in  inverted  commas  as  if  it  was  mine.  That 
is,  he  garbles.     It  is  not  mine.     Blot  Jive. 

'He  says  that  I  '•'define  what  I  mean  by  the  Church  in 
two  '  notes  '  of  her  character,"  I  do  not  define  or  dream  of 
defining. 

'  He  says  that  I  teach  that  the  Celibacy  of  the  Clergy 
enters  into  the  definition  of  the  Church.  I  do  no  such  thing  ; 
that  is  the  blunt  truth.  Define  the  Church  by  the  celibacy 
of  the  clergy !  why,  let  him  read  i  Tim.  iii.  :  there  he  will 
find  that  bishops  and  deacons  are  spoken  of  as  married. 
How,  then,  could  I  be  the  dolt  to  say  or  imply  that  the 
celibacy  of  the  clergy  was  a  part  of  the  definition  of  the 
Church  ?     Blot  six. 

'  And  again  (p.  42),  "  In  the  Sermon  a  celibate  clergy 
is  made  a  note  of  the  Church."  Thus  the  untruth  is  repeated. 
Blot  seven^ 

The  Appendix  was  published  on  June  25,  and  at  last  the 
long  labour  was  completed.     '  I  never  had  such  a  time,'  he 


THE    WRITING   OF  THE   '  APOLOGIA '  (1864)        29 

wrote  to  Keble  from  Rednal,  '  both  for  hard  work  and  for 
distress  of  mind.  But  it  is  thank  God  now  over,  and  I 
am  come  here  (where  we  have  our  burying  ground)  for  a  Httle 
quiet' 

Then  came  real  calm,  rest,  peace — the  sense  of  triumph 
so  long  denied  ;  the  acclaim  for  the  defender  of  the  priesthood, 
and  sympathy  from  his  fellow-Catholics  so  long  withheld  ; 
praise,  too,  most  welcome  of  all,  from  ecclesiastical  authority, 
prayers  and  thanksgivings  from  the  Sisters  of  the  Dominican 
Order  at  Stone — the  '  Sisters  of  Fenance  '  as  they  were  called 
— and  along  with  it  all  the  artist's  keen  satisfaction,  almost 
physical  pleasure,  in  good  work  done  and  the  response  to  it 
in  support  and  recognition. 

The  following  letters  to  the  Dominican  Sisters  and  to 
Henry  Wilberforce  were  written  after  the  Appendix  was 
published  and  the  work  completed  : 

To  Mother  Imelda  Poole,  Prioress  of 
St.  Dominic's  Convent,  Stone. 

'  Rednal ;  June  25th,  1864. 

'  My  dear  Sister  Imelda, — I  am  always  puzzled  about 
your  proper  title ;  therefore  you  must  not  suppose  that  it  is 
any  wilful  neglect  of  propriety  if  I  am  in  fault, — I  know  I  am, 
but  cannot  quite  set  myself  right. 

'  We  all  said  Mass  for  the  Sisters  of  Penance  on  St. 
Catherine's  day,  but  I  was  far  too  busy  to  write  and  tell  you 
so.  I  never  had  such  a  time,  and  once  or  twice  thought  I 
was  breaking  down.  I  kept  saying  :  "  I  am  in  for  it."  So  I 
was, — I  could  not  get  out  of  it  except  by  getting  through  it, 
— and  again,  I  simply  stood  fast  and  could  not  get  on  and 
was  almost  in  despair.  I  knew  what  I  had  written  would  not 
do,  and,  though  every  hour  was  valuable  to  me,  I  sat  thinking 
and  could  not  get  on.  At  other  times  the  feeling  was,  as  I 
expressed  it  to  those  around  me,  as  if  I  were  ploughing  in 
very  stiff  clay.  It  was  moving  on  at  the  rate  of  a  mile  an 
hour,  when  I  had  to  write  and  print  and  correct  a  hundred 
miles  by  the  next  day's  post.  It  has  been  nothing  but  the 
good  prayers  of  my  friends  which  has  brought  me  through, 
and  now  I  am  quite  tired  out ;  but,  that  I  should  have  written 
the  longest  book  I  ever  wrote  in  ten  weeks,  without  any 
sort  of  preparation  or  anticipation,  and  not  only  written,  but 
printed  and  corrected  it,  is  so  great  a  marvel  that  I  do  not 
know  how, to  be  thankful  enough. 


30  LIFE    OF   CARDINAL    NEWMAN 

'  And  now  thanking  you  for  your  letter  and  all  your  good 
prayers  for  me  and  mine, 
'  I  am, 

Ever  yours  affectionately  in  Christ, 

John  H.  Newman.' 

To  Mother  Margaret  Hallahan,  Provincial  of 

THE  Dominicans. 

'  Rednal  :  June  25th,  1864. 

*  My  dear  Mother  Margaret, —  I  am  tired  down  to  my 
hand,  so  that  I  cannot  write  without  pain,  but  I  cannot  delay 
longer  with  any  comfort  to  myself  to  answer  your  letter  on 
St.  Philip's  day — a  sad  day  and  season  it  has  been  to  me, — 
Easter-tide,  Month  of  Mary,  and  the  great  Feasts  included  in 
the  three  months.  I  have  been  collecting  materials,  writing, 
correcting  proof  and  revise,  from  morning  till  night,  and 
once  through  the  night ;  but,  when  once  I  was  in  for  it,  there 
was  no  help.  My  publisher  would  not  hear  of  breach  of 
promise,  and  my  matter  would  grow  under  my  hands,  and 
Thursday  would  come  round  once  a  week, — so  I  was  like  a 
man  who  had  fallen  overboard  and  had  to  swim  to  land, 
and  found  the  distance  he  had  to  go  greater  and  greater. 
At  last  I  am  ashore  and  have  crawled  upon  the  beach 
and  there  I  lie ;  but  I  should  not  have  got  safe,  I  know, 
but  for  the  many  good  prayers  which  have  been  offered 
for  me. 

'  I  so  much  wished  to  write  to  you  on  St.  Catherine's  day  ; 
— we  all  said  Mass  for  you  and  yours  according  to  our 
engagement. 

*  I  cannot  be  thankful  enough  for  the  great  mercies  which 
have  been  shown  me,  and  I  trust  they  are  a  pledge  that  God 
will  be  good  to  me  still. 

'  Of  course  you  have  seen  the  great  recompense  I  have 
had  for  so  many  anxieties,  in  the  Bishop's  letter  to  me. 
'  Begging  your  good  prayers, 

I  am,  my  dear  Mother  Margaret, 

Yours  affectionately  in  Christ, 

John  H.  Newman.' 

'  I  never  had  such  a  time  of  it,'  he  adds  to  another  of  the 
Dominican  sisters.  '  When  I  was  at  Oxford  I  have  twice 
written  a  pamphlet  in  a  night,  and  once  in  a  day,  but  now  I 
had  writing  and  printing  upon  me  at  once,  and  I  have  done 
a  book  of  562  pages  all  at  a  heat ;  but  with  so  much 
suffering,  such  profuse  crying,  such  long   spells  of  work — 


THE   WRITING   OF   THE   'APOLOGIA'  (1864)        31 

sometimes  sixteen  hours,  once  twent)'-two  hours  at  once, — 
that  it  is  a  prodigious,  awful  marvel  that  I  have  got  through 
it  and  that  I  am  not  simply  knocked  up  by  it.' 

It  is  difficult  to  recover  at  this  distance  of  time  evidence 
which  will  give  the  reader  a  thoroughly  adequate  idea  of  the 
change  in  Newman's  position  before  the  English  world 
effected  by  the  '  Apologia.'  There  is  the  recollection  of 
many  of  us,  fortified  by  incontestable  tradition.  There  are 
Newman's  own  letters  and  diaries,  which  bear  witness  to 
the  effect  of  this  change  on  his  own  spirits  and  hopes  for 
the  future.  So  much  of  the  evidence,  however,  as  consisted 
in  the  Newman-Kingsley  controversy  being  the  topic  of  the 
hour  in  clubs  and  drawing-rooms,  and  in  the  revival  at  this 
time  of  the  almost  lost  tradition  of  Newman's  greatness,  can 
only  live  adequately  in  the  recollection  of  the  dwindling 
number  who  remember  those  days. 

But  litera  scripta  matiet ;  and  enough  proof  of  the  general 
fact,  if  not  adequate  evidence  of  its  extent,  remains  in  the 
organs  of  public  opinion.  Newman  had  for  years  abstained 
from  any  writing  that  could  be  called  '  popular.'  His  extra- 
ordinary power  of  rousing  public  interest  by  literary  brilliancy 
was  habitually  held  in  check  by  the  stern  repressive  con- 
science which  forbade  display  and  urged  him  to  do  simply 
the  work  of  the  day  which  came  in  his  way.  Once, 
thirteen  years  earlier,  conscience  had  bidden  him  let  loose 
his  powers  of  wit  and  sarcasm — in  the  lectures  on  the 
'  Present  Position  of  Catholics.'  In  these  lectures  he  served 
the  good  cause  by  giving  full  play  to  his  more  popular  and 
telling  literary  gifts.  And  now  again,  when  Kingsley  had 
attacked  the  Catholic  priesthood  as  untruthful  and  as  slaves 
of  a  repressive  authority,  his  conscience  allowed — nay,  bade 
— him  to  do  his  best,  not  only  in  argument,  but  in  that 
enterprise  of  arresting  public  attention  which  so  immensely 
enhanced  the  effect  of  his  reply.  And  when  once  his 
scrupulous  conscience  permitted  it,  few  people  could  sway 
the  English  mind  with  more  success.  The  brilliant  dialogue 
with  Kingsley  which  he  invented,  and  which  has  already  been 
quoted,  was  the  first  step — admirably  judged  and  planned. 
Its  wit  and  its  brevity  secured  its  reproduction  throughout  the 


32  LIFE   OF    CARDINAL    NEWMAN 

Press  of  the  kingdom.  It  fixed  all  eyes  on  the  combatants. 
What  mattered  it  that  at  first  it  was  welcomed  only  as  a 
brilliant  sally  with  no  serious  outcome?  It  gained  attention, 
and,  in  the  circumstances,  that  was  everything.  That 
attention  made  the  '  Apologia '  which  followed  not  a  work 
to  be  read  only  by  the  serious  few  with  admiration  and 
profit — like  the  '  Lectures  on  Anglican  Difficulties,'  the  '  Idea 
of  a  University,'  the  '  Historical  Sketches  ' — but  a  public  event 
for  all  England. 

Directly  Newman  published,  in  February,  his  witty  sum- 
mary of  the  correspondence,  all  the  newspapers  which  were 
most  read  in  those  days  took  it  up.  The  Spectator  of  course 
applauded  it ;  the  Saturday  Review  (February  27)  declared 
that  '  Since  the  days  of  Bentley  and  Boyle  there  has  not 
appeared  so  lively  a  controversy.' 

Other  papers  followed  suit. 

'  Famous  sport,'  wrote  a  critic  in  the  Athencsum.  'Of  all 
the  diversions  of  our  dining  and  dancing  season,  that  of  a 
personal  conflict  is  ever  the  most  eagerly  enjoyed.  How  we 
flock  to  hear  a  "painful  discussion"!  How  we  send  to  the 
library  for  a  volume  that  is  too  personal  to  have  been 
published  !  And  how  briskly  we  gather  round  a  brace  of 
reverend  gentlemen  when  the  prize  for  which  they  contend 
is  which  of  the  two  shall  be  considered  as  the  father  of 
lies!' 

A  ring,  ever  increasing  in  number,  was  formed  round 
the  reverend  combatants,  and,  having  come  to  stare  and 
cheer,  the  spectators  had  perforce  to  listen  to  the  words  of 
deep  moment  and  intense  pathos  which  Newman  ultimately 
addressed  to  them. 

While  everyone,  then,  was  enjoying  the  sport,  and  on  the 
qui  vive  looking  out  for  Newman's  next  thrust  in  the  duel, 
the  '  Apologia '  made  its  appearance  in  weekly  parts — this 
mode  of  publication  immensely  helping  its  popularity  and 
influence.  For  the  weekly  pamphlet  was  devoured  by  many 
who  would  have  regarded  the  book  as  too  serious  an  under- 
taking if  it  had  been  presented  to  them  all  at  once.  It 
awoke  from  the  dead  the  great  memory  of  John  Henry 
Newman  whom  the  English  world  at  large  appeared  to  have 
forgotten.     Those  from  whom  the  spell  of  his  presence  and 


THE   WRITING   OF   THE    'APOLOGIA'  (1864)        33 

words,  felt  in  their  youth  at  Oxford,  had  never  passed  away, 
now  spoke  out  to  a  generation  which  knew  him  not. 

At  that  time  cultivated  public  opinion  was  perhaps  better 
represented  by  the  Saturday  Review  than  by  any  other 
journal.  And  the  note  struck  by  the  Saturday  on  this  sub- 
ject when  it  reviewed  the  book  as  a  whole,  was  echoed 
almost  universally. 

'A  loose  and  off-hand,  and,  we  may  venture  to  add,  an 
unjustifiable  imputation,  cast  on  Dr.  Newman  by  a  popular 
writer,  more  remarkable  for  vigorous  writing  than  vigorous 
thought,'  wrote  the  Saturday  reviewer,  '  has  produced  one 
of  the  most  interesting  works  of  the  present  literary  age. 
Dr.  Newman  is  one  of  the  finest  masters  of  language,  his 
logical  powers  are  almost  unequalled,  and,  in  one  way  or 
other,  he  has  influenced  the  course  of  English  thought  more 
perhaps  than  any  of  his  contemporaries.  If  we  add  to 
this  the  peculiar  circumstances  of  his  reappearance  in  print, 
the  sort  of  mystery  in  which,  if  he  has  not  enveloped  him- 
self, he  has  been  shrouded  of  late  years,  the  natural  curiosity 
which  has  been  felt  as  to  the  results  on  such  a  mind  of 
the  recent  progress  of  controversy  and  speculation  and  the 
lower  interest  which  always  attaches  to  autobiographies  and 
confessions  and  personal  reminiscences,  we  find  an  aggregate 
of  unusual  sources  of  interest  in  such  a  publication.' 

The  Times — then  under  Delane's  management  and  an 
immense  power — which  had  for  many  years  paid  little  heed 
to  Newman's  writings,  if  it  did  not  rise  quite  to  the  enthu- 
siasm of  the  Saturday  or  the  Spectator,  did  not  fall  far  behind 
them. 

The  Times,  the  Saturday,  and  the  Spectator  were  the 
leaders,  and  the  bulk  of  the  Press  followed  the  tone  they 
had  set.  There  was  immense  quantity  of  notice  as  well  as 
high  quality.  A  writer  in  the  Church  Review  spoke  of  '  the 
almost  unparalleled  interest  that  has  been  excited  by  the 
"  Apologia." '  It  was,  of  course,  hotly  attacked,  but  one  very 
significant  fact  was  that  some  of  the  most  vehement  attacks 
— such  as  those  of  Dr.  Irons  and  Mr.  Meyrick — recognised  to 
the  full  both  the  injustice  of  Kingsley's  personal  assault  and 
the  greatness  of  the  man  whom  he  assailed.  The  loss  of 
influence  which  had  so  deeply  depressed  Newman,  the  sense 
that  he  was  speaking  to  deaf  or  inattentive  ears,  passed  for 
VOL.  II.  D 


34  LIFE   OF    CARDINAL    NEWMAN 

ever.  In  his  brochure  addressed  to  Newman  himself,  and  en- 
titled, *  Isn't  Kingsley  right  after  all  ? '  Mr.  Meyrick's  opening 
words  bore  testimony  to  the  wave  of  popular  applause  which 
the  appearance  of  the  '  Apologia '  had  brought  with  it. 
*  All  England  has  been  laughing  with  you,'  he  wrote,  '  and 
those  who  knew  you  of  old  have  rejoiced  to  see  you  once 
more  come  forth  like  a  lion  from  his  lair,  with  undiminished 
strength  of  muscle,  and  they  have  smiled  as  they  watched 
you  carry  off  the  remains  of  Mr.  Charles  Kingsley  (no 
mean  prey),  lashing  your  sides  with  your  tail,  and  growling 
and  muttering  as  you  retreat  into  your  den.' 

'  As  a  specimen  of  mental  analysis,  extended  over  a 
whole  lifetime,'  wrote  Dr.  Irons,  'the"  Apologia"  is  probably 
without  a  rival.  St,  Augustine's  Confessions  are  a  purely 
religious  retrospect ;  Rousseau's  are  philosophical  ;  Dr. 
Newman's  psychological.  One  might  almost  attribute  to 
him  a  double  personality.  The  mental  power,  the  strange 
self-anatorny,  the  almost  cold,  patient  review  of  past  affec- 
tions, anxieties,  and  hopes,  are  alike  astonishing.  The  ex- 
amination is  not  a  post-mortem,  for  there  appear  colour, 
light,  and  consciousness  in  the  subject ;  it  is  not  a  vivisec- 
tion, for  there  is  no  quivering,  even  of  a  nerve.' 

Not  only  the  literary  and  theological  world  devoured  the 
weekly  parts  of  the  '  Apologia,'  but  the  men  of  science  read 
it  with  great  and  wondering  interest.  The  passages  dealing 
with  probable  evidence  as  the  basis  of  certitude — a  subject 
on  which  his  views  were  set  forth  more  precisely  in  the 
'Grammar  of  Assent' — especially  exercised  them. 

'  I  travelled  with  Sir  C.  Lyell  the  other  day  to  London,  on 
his  return  from  the  British  Association  meeting  at  Bath,' 
writes  William  Froude  to  Newman,  '  and  without  my  lead- 
ing the  conversation  in  that  direction,  the  subject  came 
naturally  to  the  surface,  and  he  expressed  the  feeling  which 
I  have  mentioned, — not  indeed  as  having  a  misgiving  that 
you  would  be  able  to  turn  the  stream  back,  but  as  knowing 
that  what  you  would  have  to  say  would  deserve  very  serious 
consideration.' 

But  there  was  another  side  of  its  success  which  probably 
gave  Newman  far  greater  pleasure,  confidence,  and  courage. 
He  had  come  forth  as  the  champion  of  the  Catholic  priesthood. 


THE  WRITING   OF   THE    'APOLOGIA'    (1864)        35 

He  had  won  a  great  triumph.  And  his  fellow-priests  and 
his  own  Bishop,  whom  he  loved,  were  deeply  grateful.  After 
all,  his  lot  was  thrown  in  with  the  Catholic  body  in  England. 
Suspicion  on  their  part  was  his  greatest  trial.  And  now  their 
acclaim  of  gratitude  and  confidence  warmed  him  and  drove 
away  the  sad  and  even  morbid  thoughts  which  had  haunted 
him  and  gone  far  towards  poisoning  the  more  superficial  joy 
of  his  life,  though  they  had  not  touched  the  deepest  springs 
of  his  happiness.  It  was  the  welcome  marks  of  approval  from 
these  brethren  in  the  Faith  which  he  himself  preserved  for 
posterity,  placing  them  in  the  Appendix  of  his  republished 
'  Apologia.'  The  first  of  these  addresses  of  congratulation  was 
that  of  the  Birmingham  clergy.  The  Provincial  Synod  took 
place  at  Oscott  on  June  2,  and  the  occasion  was  used  for 
presenting  a  formal  address  to  Dr.  Newman,  The  scene  is 
thus  described  in  a  contemporary  letter  from  one  of  the 
Oscott  priests  : 

'  After  the  Synod  we  all  gathered  round  the  throne  and 
the  Provost  read  the  address. 

'  Dr.  Newman,  who  stood  at  the  Bishop's  right,  stood  out 
and  we  gathered  closer  in  round  him  and  the  steps  of  the 
throne  to  catch  every  syllable.  He  must  have  been  tired  for 
he  has  worked  hard  at  his  "  Apology  " — they  say  once  for  20 
hours  without  a  break.  He  had  come  down  from  London 
not  long  before,  and  sat  out  the  whole  of  the  Synod. 

'  As  he  stepped  forward  a  (ew  paces  and  began  to  speak 
he  looked  more  vigorous  and  healthy  than  I  have  thought 
him  any  of  the  three  times  I  have  seen  him  within  10  years. 
But  he  soon  got  overpowered  when  he  began  to  say  what  he 
felt  to  be  the  real  feelings  suggesting  the  address,  and  tried 
to  do  them  justice.  He  was  gasping  for  words,  and  yet 
he  never  used  an  awkward  or  useless  one,  altho'  he  was 
speaking  perfectly  extempore  as  he  said,  and  was  recognis- 
ing such  deep  feelings  in  us  and  doing  justice  to  them,  and 
expressing  deeper  and  warmer  and  heartier  feelings  in  a  way 
quite  adequate  to  the  affection  and  sympathy  of  a  Priest  to 
his  brother  and  neighbour  Priests,  ranged  (as  he  said)  round 
the  feet  of  their  common  Father  and  Bishop.  I  can't  draw 
the  man,  or  the  tone  of  voice,  or  give  you  its  thrilling  words 
and  expression. 

'  I  never  before  heard  a  man's  whole  heart  so  plainly 
coming  out  in  his  words,  and  stamping  every  look  and  tone 
with  reality  and  complete  sincere  sympathy  with  all  around 

D  2 


36  LIFE    OF    CARDINAL    NEWMAN 

him.     His  tears  were  visible,  and  most  of  us  confessed    to 
crying  when  we  came  out. 

'  Last  of  all  he  gave  us  a  complete  answer  to  the  request 
that  he  would  write  some  work  to  meet  the  errors  of  the 
present  day.  He  had  got  off  the  personal  matter  and 
struck  out  with  a  force  and  convincing  power  that  carried 
every  one  to  his  side.  ...  It  was  full  and  complete,  bristling 
with  thought  and  deep  principle.  You  shall  have  shreds  of 
it  when  we  meet  next.' 

Bishop  Ullathorne  seized  the  occasion  to  give  expres- 
sion in  a  letter  to  a  wide  appreciation  among  Catholics  of 
Newman's  work  in  recent  years,  which,  as  we  have  seen, 
had  remained  almost  unrecognised  by  Newman  himself  amid 
the  difficulties  created  by  the  circumstances  of  the  time. 
He  reviewed  the  great  Oratorian's  career  since  1845,  and 
spoke  of  it  in  terms  excessively  grateful  to  him. 

Newman  has  preserved  in  the  '  Apologia '  the  text  alike 
of  the  Bishop's  letter  and  of  the  various  congratulatory 
addresses — one  of  them  from  1 10  of  the  Westminster  clergy, 
including  all  the  canons  and  vicars-general  and  many 
secular  and  regular  priests  ;  another  from  the  Academia  of 
the  Catholic  religion  ;  as  well  as  those  from  the  clergy  of 
his  own  and  other  dioceses,  and  from  the  German  Catholics 
assembled  in  September  1864  at  the  Congress  of  Wiirzburg. 

The  'Apologia'  as  the  story  of  Newman's  life  down  to 
1845  is  familiar  to  every  one.  Not  so  universally  known  is 
the  chapter  entitled  '  General  Answer  to  Mr.  Kingsley ' — a 
chapter  of  high  significance  in  the  history  I  am  narrating, 
and  of  permanent  value.  It  was  republished  in  the  revised 
'  Apologia,'  but  its  title  was  changed.  It  is  called  in  the 
current  edition,  'Position  of  my  Mind  since  1845.'  We 
have  seen  that  Newman's  efforts  at  stating  the  position 
of  an  educated  Catholic  in  relation  to  the  intellectual  atti- 
tude of  the  age,  and  repudiating  untenable  exaggerations, 
were  misunderstood  by  many  of  his  co-religionists.  His 
object  was  not  grasped.  He  defended  an  analysis  of  the 
Church's  claims  falling  short  of  what  W.  G.  Ward  or 
Manning  or  the  school  of  the  Univers  upheld,  because  he 
felt  that  these  more  extreme  writers  overlooked  historical 
facts    and    theological  distinctions.      But  he  was  credited — 


THE   WRITING   OF  THE    'APOLOGIA'   (1864)        37 

by  those  who  did  not  appreciate   his  true    motive — with  a 
want    of  hearty  loyalty,  with  a  deficiency  in  the  believing 
spirit.     He  was    opposing    zealous    champions  of  the  Pope, 
and    (so  such    hostile   critics    urged)    was    thereby  showing 
his    own   want  of  zeal.     He    was    supposed    to  be   making 
common  cause  with  writers  like  Sir  John  Acton,  who  might 
fairly  be  urged  to  be  wanting  in  devotion  to  the  Holy  See, 
and   deficient  in   respect    for   the   great   theologians  of  the 
Church.     For  him  in  these  circumstances  to  criticise  directly 
the  imprudent  champions  of  the  Papacy  was  a  delicate  and 
invidious  task.     But  when,  on  the  other  hand,  an  assailant 
of  the    Church    and  of  the    Catholic    priesthood    travestied 
the  claims  of  authority   and    spoke  of  Catholic    priests  as 
dupes,  and  as  intellectual  slaves,  a  fresh  and  generally  in- 
telligible motive  was  supplied  which  enabled  him  to  say  the 
very  things  which  in  the  absence  of  such  provocation  would 
be  offensive.     Distinctions  and  reservations  so  necessary  to  a 
really  satisfactory  treatment  might  safely  be  urged  as  sup- 
plying   the     true    answer   to    Kingsley's    travesty,    though 
when  used  against  Veuillot's   exaggerations  they  had  been 
regarded   as   showing   a   lack    of  sympathy  with   the  loyal 
devotion  which  inspired  the  French  writer.     The  interests  of 
critical  and    inquiring    minds    were  not  perhaps  adequately 
realised    among    English    Catholics ;    and    admissions    most 
necessary   for  those  interests  were  viewed  as  concessions  to 
worldliness  or  signs  of  a  too  cautious  faith.     Newman  there- 
fore seized  the  occasion  which  Kingsley  had  supplied  to  him 
for  giving  a  sketch  of  the  rationale,  nature,  and  limitations  of 
the  Church's  infallibility  and  an  analysis  of  the  normal  action 
of  her  authority.     And  what  he  wrote  has  great  and  lasting 
importance.     Its    autobiographical    interest    is   equal    to    its 
argumentative  value.     It  is  the  only  account  he  has  left  of 
the  state  of  his  mind — acutely  critical  and  absolutely  frank 
in  its  recognition  of  historical  facts  and  probabilities — as  a 
member  of  the  Catholic   Church,  at  a  time  when   intellec- 
tual interests    were  to  a  great  extent  crowded  out  by  ex- 
ternal   trials  and    troubles.      From   his    letters   it   is   evident 
that  the   chapter    of  which  I  speak  had  expert  theological 
revision,  with  the  advantage  that  he  could  give  to  his  censors 
his  own  justification  and  explanation  of  any  passages  which 


38  LIFE   OF    CARDINAL    NEWMAN 

might  be  attacked  by  hostile  critics.  The  result  fully  veri- 
fied the  view  he  ever  maintained — that,  where  the  interests 
of  theology  were  dealt  with  by  really  able  theologians,  un- 
hampered by  the  pressure  of  other  than  theological  interests, 
the  principles  recognised  in  the  schools  were  adequate  to  the 
intellectual  necessities  of  the  time. 

He  indicates  in  this  chapter  the  functions  of  authority  in 
the  formation  of  Catholic  theology,  and  also  the  part  played 
by  individual  thinkers,  which  he  held  that  Veuillot,  and  even 
W.  G.  Ward,  had  most  mischievously  overlooked. 

W.  G.  Ward  and  Veuillot  appeared  to  their  critics  to 
appeal  to  the  Infallible  Authority  for  guidance  almost  as 
though  it  superseded  the  exercise  of  the  theological  intel- 
lect. W.  G.  Ward  had  uniformly  written  of  late  years 
as  though  the  normal  method  of  advance  in  inquiry  and 
thought  within  the  Church  was  that  Papal  instructions  and 
Encyclicals  should  take  the  lead,  and  the  sole  business  of 
the  individual  Catholic  thinker  was  simply  to  follow  that 
lead.  In  opposition  to  so  inadequate  an  account  of  the 
normal  formation  of  the  Catholic  intellect — in  which  great 
thinkers  like  St.  Augustine  and  St.  Thomas  Aquinas  had 
had  so  large  a  share — Newman  sets  himself  carefully  to 
trace  the  actual  facts  of  the  case.  First,  however,  to  pre- 
clude all  possibility  of  misunderstanding,  he  gives  an  analysis 
of  the  Infallibility  granted  to  the  Church  in  faith  and  morals, 
and  defines  its  scope  in  such  terms  as  would  amply  satisfy 
all  the  requirements  of  theology. 

In  general  he  regards  the  Church's  infallibility  '  as  a 
provision,  adapted  by  the  mercy  of  the  Creator  to  preserve 
religion  in  the  world,  and  to  restrain  that  freedom  of  thought, 
which  of  course  in  itself  is  one  of  the  greatest  of  our  natural 
gifts,  and  to  rescue  it  from  its  own  suicidal  excesses.'  ^ 

But  having  stated  his  full  acceptance  of  the  Infallibility 
of  the  Church,  he  formulates  the  objection  which  Kingsley 
had  made  by  implication,  that  such  acceptance  is  incom- 
patible with  real  and  manly  reasoning  in  a  Catholic — a 
charge  which  the  writings  of  English  and  French  Catholic 
extremists  made  only  too  plausible.  Having  stated  it,  he 
proceeds  to  reply  to  it  by  an  appeal  to  the  palpable  facts 

'  Apologia,  p.  245. 


THE   WRITING   OF   THE    'APOLOGIA'    (1864)        39 

of  history.  History  shows  that  reason  and  private  judgment 
have  been  most  active  among  CathoHc  thinkers — that  great 
doctors  of  the  Church  have  played  a  most  important  role 
in  the  gradual  formation  of  Catholic  thought  and  theology. 
Infallibility  is  not  meant  (he  points  out)  to  supersede  or 
destroy  reason,  but  to  curb  its  excesses.  To  regard  the 
Infallible  Authority  as  the  power  which  normally  takes 
the  initiative  or  gives  the  lead  to  the  Catholic  mind  is 
entirely  to  misconceive  its  function  and  to  state  what  is 
contrary  to  historical  fact.  The  intellect  of  Christian  Europe 
was,  in  point  of  fact,  fashioned,  not  by  Popes,  but  by  the 
reason  of  individual  Christian  thinkers  exercised  on  revela- 
tion— first  of  all  by  the  great  Fathers  of  the  Church.  But, 
moreover,  even  heterodox  thinkers— as  Origen  and  Tertul- 
lian — have  also  had  their  indirect  share  in  the  formation  of 
Catholic  theology.  The  primary  function  of  Rome  is  not 
to  initiate,  not  to  form  the  Catholic  intellect,  but  to  act  as 
guardian  of  the  original  deposit  and  as  a  check  on  excesses 
and  on  over-rapid  and  incautious  development — a  negative 
rather  than  a  positive  contribution  to  thought. 

'  It  is  individuals,  and  not  the  Holy  See,'  he  writes,  '  that 
have  taken  the  initiative  and  given  the  lead  to  the  Catholic 
mind  in  theological  inquiry.  Indeed,  it  is  one  of  the  re- 
proaches urged  against  the  Roman  Church  that  it  has  origin- 
ated nothing,  and  has  only  served  as  a  sort  of  remora  or  break 
in  the  development  of  doctrine.  And  it  is  an  objection  which 
I  embrace  as  a  truth  ;  for  such  I  conceive  to  be  the  main 
purpose  of  its  extraordinary  gift.  .  .  .  The  great  luminary  of 
the  Western  World  is,  as  we  know,  St.  Augustine ;  he, 
no  infallible  teacher,  has  formed  the  intellect  of  Christian 
Europe  ;  indeed  to  the  African  Church  generally  we  must 
look  for  the  best  early  exposition  of  Latin  ideas.  Moreover, 
of  the  African  divines,  the  first  in  order  of  time,  and  not  the 
least  influential,  is  the  strong-minded  and  heterodox  Tertul- 
lian.  Nor  is  the  Eastern  intellect,  as  such,  without  its  share 
in  the  formation  of  the  Latin  teaching.  The  free  thought 
of  Origen  is  visible  in  the  writings  of  the  Western  Doctors, 
Hilary  and  Ambrose  ;  and  the  independent  mind  of  Jerome 
has  enriched  his  own  vigorous  commentaries  on  Scripture, 
from  the  stores  of  the  scarcely  orthodox  Eusebius.  Heretical 
questionings  have  been  transmuted  by  the  living  power  of 
the  Church    into   salutary  truths.       The    case  is    the   same 


40 


LIFE    OF    CARDINAL    NEWMAN 


as  regards  the  Ecumenical  Councils.  Authority  in  its  most 
imposing  exhibition,  grave  bishops,  laden  with  the  traditions 
and  rivalries  of  particular  nations  or  places,  have  been  guided 
in  their  decisions  by  the  commanding  genius  of  individuals, 
sometimes  young  and  of  inferior  rank.  Not  that  uninspired 
intellect  overruled  the  superhuman  gift  which  was  com- 
mitted to  the  Council,  which  would  be  a  self-contradictory 
assertion,  but  that  in  that  process  of  inquiry  and  deliberation, 
which  ended  in  an  infallible  enunciation,  individual  reason 
was  paramount.'  ^ 

Again,  while  a  certain  narrowness  of  outlook  in  the 
average  theological  mind  (from  which,  as  we  have  seen,  he 
himself  had  suffered)  had  to  be  admitted,  it  was,  never- 
theless, in  the  palmy  days  of  the  theological  schools — the 
Middle  Ages — that  the  strongest  instances  were  to  be  found 
of  the  functions  of  free  discussion  and  active  exercise  of 
the  individual  intellect  in  the  formation  of  Catholic  theology. 
Once  again — as  he  had  already  done  in  Dublin — he  appeals 
to  this  precedent  as  indicating  the  normal  state  of  things, 
and  as  giving  a  scope  to  original  thinkers  which  excessive 
centralisation  and  over-rigid  censorship  might  deny.  In 
this  passage  he  repeats  the  metaphor  of  fighting  '  under 
the  lash'  which  we  have  read  in  the  letter  to  Miss  Bowles 
cited  above.  He  holds  any  such  interference  on  the  part 
of  authority  as  would  stifle  the  ventilation  of  real  thought 
to  be,  not,  as  Kingsley  supposes,  general,  but,  on  the  con- 
trary, abnormal,  and  due  only  to  temporary  circumstances  or 
needs.  The  more  ordinary  course  has  been  slowness  on 
the  part  of  Rome  to  interfere,  and  in  the  end  interference 
so  limited  that  the  matter  can  be  threshed  out  by  discussion 
from  various  points  of  view,  and  authority  often  only  enforces 
the  decision  which  reason  has  already  reached.^ 

He  points  out  in  this  connection  the  value  of  the  inter- 
national character  of  Catholicism  in  averting  narrowness  of 
thought.  And  he  deplores  the  loss  of  the  influence,  once 
so  great,  of  the  English  and  German  elements  owing  to  the 
apostasy  of  the  sixteenth  century.' 

But  perhaps  more  important  than  any  of  the  other 
passages  is  the  one  in  which  he  gives  what  may  be  called 
the  philosophy  of  the  interference  of  Ecclesiastical  Authority 


'  Apologia,  pp.  265-6. 


*  Ibid.  p.  267. 


»  Ibid.  p.  268. 


THE   WRITING   OF   THE    'APOLOGIA'   (1864)        41 

with  the  secular  sciences  by  decisions  which  do  not  claim  to 
be  infallible.  He  states  frankly  the  prima  facie  difficulty 
such  interference  presents  to  a  thinking  mind,  and  in  his 
reply  maintains  that,  on  the  whole,  although  the  Supreme 
Authority  may  be  supported  by  a  '  violent  ultra  party  which 
exalts  opinions  into  dogmas,'  ^  history  shows  in  the  long  run 
that  official  interferences  themselves  have  been  mainly  wise, 
and  the  opponents  of  authority  mainly  wrong.  The  lesson 
of  this  impressive  passage  is  one  of  great  patience  in  a  time 
of  transition  and  of  trial. 

But  these  passages  of  controversy  in  the  'Apologia,'  though 
so  supremely  necessary,  were  painful.  The  writer  seems  to 
break  off  with  a  sense  of  relief,  and  ends  his  book  with  the 
loving  tribute  to  his  friends  at  the  Oratory  which  stands 
among  those  passages  in  which  he  speaks  to  all  and  makes 
all  love  him — with  '  Lead,  kindly  light,'  with  the  Epilogue 
to  the  *  Development,'  with  the  close  of  the  sermon  on  the 
'  Parting  of  Friends ' : 

'  I  have  closed  this  history  of  myself  with  St.  Philip's 
name  upon  St.  Philip's  feast-day  ;  and,  having  done  so,  to 
whom  can  I  more  suitably  offer  it,  as  a  memorial  of  affection 
and  gratitude,  than  to  St.  Philip's  sons,  my  dearest  brothers 
of  this  House,  the  Priests  of  the  Birmingham  Oratory, 
Ambrose  St.  John,  Henry  Austin  Mills,  Henry 
BiTTLESTON,  Edward  Caswall,  William  Paine  Neville, 
and  Henry  Ignatius  Dudley  Ryder  ?  who  have  been  so 
faithful  to  me  ;  who  have  been  so  sensitive  of  my  needs ;  who 
have  been  so  indulgent  to  my  failings  ;  who  have  carried  me 
through  so  many  trials  ;  who  have  grudged  no  sacrifice,  if  I 
asked  for  it  ;  who  have  been  so  cheerful  under  discouragements 
of  my  causing ;  who  have  done  so  many  good  works,  and  let 
me  have  the  credit  of  them  ; — with  whom  I  have  lived  so 
long,  with  whom  I  hope  to  die. 

'  And  to  you  especially,  dear  Ambrose  St.  John  ;  whom 
God  gave  me,  when  He  took  every  one  else  away ;  who  are 
the  link  between  my  old  life  and  my  new ;  who  have  now 
for  twenty-one  years  been  so  devoted  to  me,  so  patient,  so 
zealous,  so  tender ;  who  have  let  me  lean  so  hard  upon  you  : 
who  have  watched  me  so  narrowly ;  who  have  never  thought 
of  yourself,  if  I  was  in  question. 

'  And  in  you  I  gather  up  and  bear  in  memory  those  familiar 
affectionate  companions  and  counsellors,  who  in  Oxford  were 

'  Apologia,  p.  260. 


42  LIFE    OF    CARDINAL    NEWMAN 

given  to  me,  one  after  another,  to  be  my  daily  solace  and 
relief;  and  all  those  others,  of  great  name  and  high  example, 
who  were  my  thorough  friends,  and  showed  me  true  attachment 
in  times  long  past  ;  and  also  those  many  young  men,  whether 
I  knew  them  or  not,  who  have  never  been  disloyal  to  me  by 
word  or  by  deed  ;  and  of  all  these,  thus  various  in  their 
relations  to  me,  those  more  especially  who  have  since  joined 
the  Catholic  Church. 

'  And  I  earnestly  pray  for  this  whole  company,  with  a 
hope  against  hope,  that  all  of  us,  who  once  were  so  united, 
and  so  happy  in  our  union,  may  even  now  be  brought  at 
length,  by  the  Power  of  the  Divine  Will,  into  One  Fold  and 
under  One  Shepherd. 

'  May  26th,  1864. 
In  Festo  Corp.  Christ.' 

The  acclaim  of  the  Press,  as  we  have  seen,  testified  to  a 
public  opinion  completely  conquered.  Addresses  of  congra- 
tulation from  representative  Catholic  critics  long  continued 
to  come.  It  was  a  victory.  Yet  the  book  did  not  pass 
wholly  unchallenged.  The  lucid  exposition,  in  the  last  part 
of  the  '  Apologia,'  of  the  Church  as  viewed  historically,  pro- 
voked censure  from  some  unhistorical  minds  among  the 
theological  critics.  Such  criticisms  led  Newman,  as  he  in- 
timated in  a  letter  to  Dr.  Russell,  to  go  into  the  passages 
criticised  with  expert  theologians,  with  whom  he  was 
successful  in  justifying  his  meaning. 

'April  19,  1865. 

'  I  have  altered  some  things,'  he  writes  to  Dr.  Russell, 
'  and  perhaps,  as  you  say,  have  thereby  anticipated  your 
criticisms.  But  I  have  altered  only  with  the  purpose  of 
expressing  my  own  meaning  more  exactly.  This  is  all  I 
have  to  aim  at ;  because  I  have  reason  to  know,  that,  after  a 
severe,  not  to  say  hostile  scrutiny,  I  have  been  found  to  be 
without  matter  of  legitimate  offence.  For  a  day  like  this,  in 
which  such  serious  efforts  are  made  to  narrow  that  liberty 
of  thought  and  speech  which  is  open  to  a  Catholic,  I  am 
indisposed  to  suppress  my  own  judgment  in  order  to  satisfy 
objectors.  Among  such  persons  of  course  I  do  not  include 
you :  but,  using  the  same  frankness  which  you  so  kindly 
claim  in  writing  to  me,  I  will  express  my  belief,  that  you 
are  tender  towards  others,  in  the  remarks  which  you 
ask  to  make,  rather  than  actually  displeased  with  me 
yourself 


THE   WRITING    OF   THE    'APOLOGIA'    (1864)        43 

One  criticism  Newman  did  think  it  important  to  answer 
— namely,  the  objection  taken  by  scholastic  critics  to  his 
language  on  '  probable '  evidence  as  the  basis  of  certainty, 
the  very  point  on  which  W.  Froude's  scientific  friends  had 
also  fastened.  Newman  wrote  to  Canon  Walker  the  following 
thoroughly  popular  explanation  of  the  consistency  of  his 
views  with  the  recognised  teaching : 

'July  6,  1864.  .  .  .  The  best  illustration  of  what  I  hold 
is  that  of  a  cable,  which  is  made  up  of  a  number  of  separate 
threads,  each  feeble,  yet  together  as  sufficient  as  an  iron  rod. 

'  An  iron  rod  represents  mathematical  or  strict  demon- 
stration ;  a  cable  represents  moral  demonstration,  which  is 
an  assemblage  of  probabilities,  separately  insufficient  for  cer- 
tainty, but,  when  put  together,  irrefragable.  A  man  who  said 
"  I  cannot  trust  a  cable,  I  must  have  an  iron  bar,"  would 
in  certain  given  cases,  be  irrational  and  unreasonable  : — so  too 
is  a  man  who  says  I  must  have  a  rigid  demonstration,  not 
moral  demonstration,  of  religious  truth.' 

The  criticisms  of  captious  theologians  were  a  real  trial 
to  Newman,  for  they  made  him  feel  the  difficulty  of  writing 
further,  as  his  friends  wished,  and  taking  advantage  of  having 
won  the  ear  of  the  English  public. 

'  As  to  my  writing  more,'  he  complains  to  Mr.  Hope-Scott 
in  a  letter  of  July  6th,  '  speaking  in  confidence,  I  do  not  know 
how  to  do  it.  One  cannot  speak  ten  words  without  ten  objec- 
tions being  made  to  each.  I  am  not  certain  that  I  shall  not 
have  some  remarks  made  on  what  I  have  just  finished.  The 
theology  of  the  Dublin  is,  to  my  mind,  monstrous — but  I  am 
safe  there,  from  the  kindness  which  Ward  feels  for  me.  Now 
I  cannot  lose  my  time  and  strength,  and  tease  my  mind,  with 
controversy.  It  would  matter  little,  if  I  might  be  quiet 
under  criticisms — but  I  never  can  be  sure  that  great  lies  may 
not  be  told  about  me  at  Rome,  and  so  I  may  be  put  on  my 
defence.  A  writer  in  a  Review  of  this  month  says  (he  knows 
personally)  that  persons  in  Rome  within  this  three  years 
spoke  pubhcly  of  the  probability  of  my  leaving  the  Church. 
And  Mgr.  Talbot  put  about  that  I  had  subscribed  to 
Garibaldi,  and  took  credit  for  having  concealed  my  delin- 
quencies from  the  Pope.  I  take  all  this,  and  can  only  take 
it,  as  the  will  of  God.  I  mean,  I  have  done  nothing  whatever 
to  call  for  it.' 

Still  the  net  result  of  the  book  was  a  triumph,  and  the 
criticisms  were  soon  forgotten.     But  in  this  very  fact  of  the 


44  LIFE    OF    CARDINAL    NEWMAN 

balance    ultimately  turning  in    favour  of  success,   Newman 

found  a  reason  against  running  the  risk  involved  in  setting 

up  a  fresh  target  for  criticism  without  real  necessity.     And 

when  Canon  Walker  called  eagerly  for  another  book  he  thus 

replied  : 

'August  5,  1864. 

'  As  to  my  writing  more,  I  am  tempted  to  say  "  Let  well 
alone."  If  I  attempt  to  do  more,  I  may  do  less.  Almost  to 
my  surprise  I  have  succeeded.  I  have  sincerely  tried  to  keep 
from  controversy,  and  to  occupy  myself  in  simply  defending 
myself,  and  in  myself  my  brethren  ;  and,  without  my  in- 
tending it,  I  have  written  what  I  hear  from  various  quarters 
is  found  to  be  useful  controversially.  If  I  attempted  to  be 
controversial,  I  may  spoil  all.  Some  people  have  said  "Your 
history  is  more  to  your  purpose  than  all  your  arguments." 

'  Then  again  I  never  can  write  well  without  a  definite  call. 
You  were  rating  me  for  several  years,  because  I  did  not 
write  ;  but  if  I  had  attempted,  it  would  be  a  failure,  like  a 
boy's  theme.  But  when  the  real  occasion  came,  I  succeeded. 
I  almost  think  it  is  part  of  the  English  character,  though  in 
this  day  there  seems  a  change  certainly.  Grote,  Thirhvall, 
Milman,  Cornewall  Lewis,  Mill,  have  written  great  works  for 
their  own  sake.  So  did  Gibbon  last  century,  but  he  was 
half  a  Frenchman.  Our  great  writers  have  generally  written 
on  occasion — controversially  as  Burke,  or  Milton;  officially, 
as  Blackstone — for  money  as  Dryden,  Johnson,  Scott  &c.,  or 
in  Sibyl's  leaves  as  Addison  and  the  Essayists.' 

One  passage  in  his  book  which  provoked  criticism  was 
its  testimony  to  the  value  of  the  Church  of  England — an 
institution  which  some  Catholics,  more  zealous  in  feeling 
than  educated  in  mind,  considered  should  be  spoken  of 
with  contempt  and  derision  by  any  thoroughly  orthodox 
son  of  the  Church.  The  tone  of  Newman's  letter  to  Henry 
Wilberforce  in  reference  to  this  criticism  represents,  I  think, 
the  feeling  he  came  eventually  to  have  as  to  all  the  criticisms 
— that  they  were  inevitable  in  the  circumstances  of  the  time, 
and  would  not  ultimately  much  signify  : 

'The  Oratory,  Birmingham:  St.  Bartholomew's  Day,  Aug.  24th,  1864. 

'  Thanks  for  your  considerateness,  but  I  never  conjectured 
for  an  instant  that  the  publication  of  the  Articles  you  speak 
of  depended  on  you.  I  have  not  more  than  seen  them,  but 
it  is  hard  if  my  book  may  not  be  criticised  as  any  other  book. 
Of  course,  I  stared  at  a  critic's  thinking  that  it  is  impossible 


THE   WRITING    OF   THE    'APOLOGIA'  (1864)        45 

for  an  institution  to  be  great  in  a  human  way  because  it  is 
simply  an  idol  and  a  nehushtan  in  an  Apostolic  point  of  view, 
though  I  recognised  in  the  sentiment  what  is  one  of  the  evil 
delusions  of  many  who  are  not  converts  but  old  Catholics, 
(perhaps  of  some  converts  too)  that  Catholics  are  on  an  intel- 
lectual and  social  equality  with  Protestants.  This  idea  I 
have  ever  combated,  and  been  impatient  at;  and,  till  we  allow 
that  there  are  greater  natural  gifts  and  human  works  in  the 
Protestant  world  of  England  than  in  the  little  Catholic  flock, 
we  only  make  ourselves  ridiculous  and  hurt  that  just  in- 
fluence by  which  alone  we  can  hope  to  convert  men.  If 
there  were  no  such  thing  as  absolute  truth  in  religious 
matters,  there  is  great  wisdom  in  a  compromise  and  com- 
prehension of  opinions, — and  this  the  Church  of  England 
exhibits.' 

One,  and  only  one,  adverse  criticism  did  remain  perma- 
nently in  the  public  mind,— that  Newman  had  been  unduly 
sensitive  and  personally  bitter  towards  Kingsley.  With  this 
impression  he  dealt  in  a  highly  interesting  letter  to  Sir 
William  Cope  written  at  the  time  of  Kingsley's  death, — a  letter 
which  completes  the  story  of  the  writing  of  the  '  Apologia.' 

'The  Oratory  :  Feb.  13th,  1875. 

'  My  dear  Sir  William,—  I  thank  you  very  much  for  the 
gift  of  your  sermon.  The  death  of  Mr.  Kingsley, — so  pre- 
mature— shocked  me.  I  never  from  the  first  have  felt  any 
anger  towards  him.  As  I  said  in  the  first  pages  of  my 
"  Apologia,"  it  is  very  difficult  to  be  angry  with  a  man  one 
has  never  seen.  A  casual  reader  would  think  my  language 
denoted  anger, — but  it  did  not.  I  have  ever  found  from  ex- 
perience that  no  one  would  believe  me  in  earnest  if  I  spoke 
calmly.  When  again  and  again  I  denied  the  repeated 
report  that  I  was  on  the  point  of  coming  back  to  the  Church 
of  England,  I  have  uniformly  found  that,  if  I  simply  denied 
it,  this  only  made  newspapers  repeat  the  report  more  con- 
fidently,— but,  if  I  said  something  sharp,  they  abused  me  for 
scurrility  against  the  Church  I  had  left,  but  they  believed 
me.  Rightly  or  wrongly,  this  was  the  reason  why  I  felt  it 
would  not  do  to  be  tame  and  not  to  show  indignation  at 
Mr.  Kingsley's  charges.  Within  the  last  few  years  I  have 
been  obliged  to  adopt  a  similar  course  towards  those  who 
said  I  could  not  receive  the  Vatican  Decrees.  I  sent  a  sharp 
letter  to  the  Guardian  and,  of  course,  the  Guardian  called  me 
names,  but  it  believed  me  and  did  not  allow  the  offence  of 
its  correspondent  to  be  repeated. 


46 


LIFE    OF    CARDINAL    NEWMAN 


'  As  to  Mr.  Kingsley,  much  less  could  I  feel  any  resent- 
ment against  him  when  he  was  accidentally  the  instrument,  in 
the  good  Providence  of  God,  by  whom  I  had  an  opportunity 
given  me,  which  otherwise  I  should  not  have  had,  of 
vindicating  my  character  and  conduct  in  my  "  Apologia."  I 
heard,  too,  a  few  years  back  from  a  friend  that  she  chanced 
to  go  into  Chester  Cathedral  and  found  Mr.  K,  preaching 
about  me,  kindly  though,  of  course,  with  criticisms  on  me. 
And  it  has  rejoiced  me  to  observe  lately  that  he  was 
defending  the  Athanasian  Creed,  and,  as  it  seemed  to  me, 
in  his  views  generally  nearing  the  Catholic  view  of  things.  I 
have  always  hoped  that  by  good  luck  I  might  meet  him, 
feeling  sure  that  there  would  be  no  embarrassment  on  my 
part,  and  I  said  Mass  for  his  soul  as  soon  as  I  heard  of  his 
death. 

*  Most  truly  yours, 

John  H.  Newman.' 


CHAPTER  XXI 

CATHOLICS   AT   OXFORD   ( 1 864- 1 865) 

The  success  of  the  '  Apologia '  at  once  attracted  attention 
in  Rome.  Monsignor  Talbot,  at  Manning's  suggestion,  called 
at  the  Oratory  in  July,  and  subsequently  wrote  to  invite 
Newman  to  visit  Rome  and  deliver  a  course  of  sermons  at  his 
own  church.  '  When,'  he  wrote,  '  I  told  the  Holy  Father  that 
I  intended  to  invite  you,  he  highly  approved  of  my  intention  ; 
and  I  think  myself  that  you  will  derive  great  benefit  from 
revisiting  Rome  and  again  showing  yourself  to  the  ecclesias- 
tical authorities  there  who  are  anxious  to  see  you.'  Newman 
curtly  declined  the  proposal.'  He  would  not  respond  to  such 
advances  brought  about  by  his  new  popularity.  He  had  not 
forgotten  that  Monsignor  Talbot  had  been  among  the  foremost 
of  those  who  had  thrown  suspicion  on  his  orthodoxy  in  the  sad 
days  which  succeeded  his  connection  with  the  Rambler.  Nor 
would  he  allow  his  friends  to  rate  too  highly  the  significance 
of  Talbot's  visit  and  letter  as  signs  of  favour  in  high  quarters. 
'  As  to  my  invitation  to  Rome,'  he  wrote  to  Miss  Bowles,  'it 
was  this.  Monsignor  Talbot,  who  had  been  spreading  the  re- 
port that  I  subscribed  to  Garibaldi,  and  said  other  bad  things 
against  me,  had  the  assurance  to  send  me  a  pompous  letter 
asking  me  to  preach  a  set  of  sermons  in  his  church,  saying 
that  then  I  should  have  an  opportunity  to  show  myself  to 
the  authorities  (that,  I  think,  was  his  phrase)  and  to  rub  up 
my  Catholicism.  It  was  an  insolent  letter.  I  declined.'  The 
invitation  'was  suggested  by  Manning— the  Pope  had  nothing 
to  do  with  it.  When  Talbot  left  for  England  he  said,  among 
other  things,  "  I  think  of  asking  Dr.  Newman  to  give  a  set 
of  lectures  in  my  church,"  and  the  Pope,  of  course,  said,  "a 
very  good  thought,"  as  he  would  have  said  if  Mgr.  Talbot 

'  For  the  text  of  this  correspondence,  see  p.  539. 


48  LIFE    OF    CARDINAL    NEWMAN 

had  said,  "  I  wish  to  bring   Your    Holiness    some    English 
razors." ' 

Nevertheless,  Newman's  letters  show  that  he  was  sensible 
of  having  now  quite  a  new  position  in  the  Catholic  world. 
He  was  recognised  as  the  great  and  successful  apologist  for 
the  Catholic  religion,  a  defender  of  the  Catholic  priesthood, 
in  a  battle  which  had  commanded  the  attention  of  all  the 
English-speaking  world.  He  states  in  his  journal  that  his 
success  '  put  him  in  spirits '  to  look  out  for  fresh  work. 

The  English  Universities  had  been  thrown  open  to  Catho- 
lics by  the  abolition  of  the  tests  which  had  long  excluded 
them.  Cardinal  Wiseman,  in  earlier  days,  had  inveighed 
against  the  injustice  of  their  exclusion,  and  had  looked 
forward  to  the  time  when  in  Oxford  as  in  the  Westminster 
Parliament  his  co-religionists  should  compete  on  equal 
terms  with  their  fellow-countrymen.  He  had  avowed  these 
sentiments  openly  in  the  Dublin  Review.  Newman  had  for 
some  time  considered  the  possibility  of  a  renewed  connection 
with  Oxford,  with  the  immediate  object  of  affording  spiritual 
and  intellectual  guidance  to  Catholic  undergraduates,  and  the 
indirect  issue  of  coming  to  close  quarters  with  the  thought 
of  the  place,  and  undertaking  as  occasion  demanded  such 
an  intellectual  exposition  of  Catholicism  in  its  relation  to 
modern  movements  as  would  make  it  a  power  in  English 
religious  thought.  This  in  turn  would  help  to  secure  and 
fortify  the  faith  of  the  young.  Such  an  endeavour  would 
enable  him  to  continue  in  a  new  form  the  work  he  had 
endeavoured  to  do  both  at  Dublin  and  in  the  Rambler. 
The  Catholic  University  had  failed.  University  training 
must  be  sought  by  Catholics  at  Oxford  or  Cambridge,  or 
not  at  all.  He  knew  Oxford  and  loved  it.  It  had  been 
the  scene  of  his  wonderful  work  in  stemming  the  early 
stages  of  rationalistic  thought  among  the  youth  of  England. 
Now  rationalism  had  grown  there  and  the  philosophy  of 
J.  S.  Mill  was  supreme.  Could  he  resume  his  task  with 
the  power  of  the  Catholic  Church  behind  him  } 

The  Munich  Brief  had  in  1863,  as  we  have  seen,  directly 
discouraged  the  attempt  to  meet  the  intellectual  needs  of  the 
hour  in  the  particular  form  it  had  been  taking  among  the 
German  savatits.    Could  it  be  made  under  different  conditions  ? 


CATHOLICS   AT   OXFORD   (1864-1865)  49 

Could  something  in  the  desired  direction  be  undertaken  as  an 
almost  pastoral  work  for  the  sake  of  the  rising  generation  ? 

Newman's  sense  of  the  urgency  of  the  danger  and  of  the 
necessity  of  meeting  it  by  argument  rather  than  mere  censure 
of  error  appears  in  a  letter  written  to  Mr.  Ornsby  shortly 
after  the  publication  of  the  Munich  Brief  (in  the  year  pre- 
ceding the  'Apologia'),  in  reply  to  his  correspondent's  in- 
formation as  to  the  tendency  towards  infidelity  among  the 
abler  and  more  thoughtful  young  Catholics  at  Dublin  : 

'  What  you  say  about  this  tendency  towards  infidelity  is 
melancholy  in  the  extreme — but  to  be  expected.  What  has 
been  done  for  the  young  men  ? 

' .  .  .  Denunciation  effects  neither  subjection  in  thought 
nor  in  conduct ;  I  think  it  was  in  my  last  letter  that  I  con- 
cluded with  some  words  which  I  wrote  half  asleep  about  the 
Home  and  Foreign.  I  wonder  what  I  said,— I  had  a  great 
deal  to  say,  though  it  is  wearisome  to  bring  it  out.  The 
Home  and  Foreigii  has  to  amend  its  ways  most  consider- 
ably before  it  can  be  spoken  well  of  by  Catholics — so  I 
think ;  but  it  realises  the  fact  that  there  are  difficulties  which 
have  to  be  met,  and  it  tries  to  meet  them.  Not  successfully 
or  always  prudently,  but  still  it  has  done  something  (I 
include  the  Rambler),  and  to  speak  against  it  as  some 
persons  do  seems  to  me  the  act  of  men  who  are  blind  to  the 
intellectual  difficulties  of  the  day.  You  cannot  make  men 
believe  by  force  and  repression.  Were  the  Holy  See  as 
powerful  in  temporals  as  it  was  three  centuries  back,  then 
you  would  have  a  secret  infidelity  instead  of  an  avowed  one 
— (which  seems  the  worse  evil)  unless  you  train  the  reason 
to  defend  the  truth.  Galileo  subscribed  what  was  asked  of 
him,  but  is  said  to  have  murmured  :  "E  pur  si  muove." 

'  And  your  cut  and  dried  answers  out  of  a  dogmatic 
treatise  are  no  weapons  with  which  the  Catholic  Reason  can 
hope  to  vanquish  the  infidels  of  the  day.  Why  was  it  that 
the  Medieval  Schools  were  so  vigorous  ?  Because  they  were 
allowed  free  and  fair  play — because  the  disputants  were  not 
made  to  feel  the  bit  in  their  mouths  at  every  other  word  they 
spoke,  but  could  move  their  limbs  freely  and  expatiate  at 
will.  Then,  when  they  went  wrong,  a  stronger  and  truer 
intellect  set  them  down — and,  as  time  went  on,  if  the  dispute 
got  perilous,  and  a  controversialist  obstinate,  then  at  length 
Rome  interfered — at  length,  not  at  first.  Truth  is  wrought 
out  by  many  minds  working  together  freely.  As  far  as  I  can 
make  out,  this  has  ever  been  the  rule  of  the  Church  till 
VOL.  II.  E 


so  LIFE    OF    CARDINAL    NEWMAN 

now,  when  the  first  French  Revolution  having  destroyed  the 
Schools  of  Europe,  a  sort  of  centralization  has  been  estab- 
lished at  head  quarters — and  the  individual  thinker  in  France, 
England,  or  Germany  is  brought  into  immediate  collision  with 
the  most  sacred  authorities  of  the  Divine  Polity.  .  .  . 

'  I  suppose  we  must  be  worse  before  we  are  better — 
because  we  do  not  recognise  that  we  are  bad.'  ^ 

It  must  be  remembered  that  the  Oxford  scheme  was 
never  Newman's  ideal.  It  was  a  concession  to  necessities 
of  the  hour.  His  ideal  scheme,  alike  for  the  education  of 
the  young  and  for  the  necessary  intellectual  defence  of 
Christianity,  had  consistently  been  the  erection  of  a  large 
Catholic  University,  like  Louvain.  This  he  had  tried  to  set 
up  in  Catholic  Ireland.  In  such  an  institution  research  and 
discussion  of  the  questions  of  the  day  would  be  combined, 
as  in  the  Middle  Ages,  with  a  Catholic  atmosphere,  the 
personal  ascendency  of  able  Christian  professors,  and 
directly  religious  influences  for  the  young  men.  The  cause 
of  the  failure  of  his  attempt  lay,  not  in  him,  but  in 
the  conditions  of  the  country.  His  thoughts  had  there- 
fore turned  of  necessity  towards  Oxford.  But  the  exact 
nature  of  the  scheme  to  be  aimed  at  was  for  some  time 
in  his  mind  uncertain,  and  it  was  not  until  after  the  appear- 
ance of  the  'Apologia'  that  he  was  hopeful  enough  to  think 
of  himself  as  likely  to  do  a  useful  work  in  this  connection. 

A  few  months  after  the  above  letter  to  Mr.  Ornsby  was 
written,  the  question  of  Catholics  frequenting  Oxford  and 
of  the  necessary  safeguards  which  their  admission  must  call 
for  was  en  evidence.  Cardinal  Wiseman  had  years  earlier 
spoken  of  the  possibility  of  Oscott  being  some  day  used  as 
a  University  for  Catholics.  And  Newman — not  yet  closely 
concerned  in  the  Oxford  scheme — in  1863  threw  out  a  hint 
based  on  this  idea  to  Bishop  Ullathorne,  who  consulted  him 
on  the  whole  subject. 

'  It  is  a  marvel,'  Newman  wrote  to  Ambrose  St.  John 
in  this  connexion,  'that  the  Bishop  suffers  me,  that  he  suffers 

'  'My  view  has  ever  been,'  he  writes  to  Mr.  Copeland  on  April  20,  1873, 
'  to  answer,  not  to  suppress,  what  is  erroneous — merely  as  a  matter  of  expedience 
for  the  cause  of  truth,  at  least  at  this  day.  It  seems  to  me  a  bad  policy  to 
suppress.  Truth  has  a  power  of  its  own  which  makes  its  way — it  is  stronger  than 
error  according  to  the  proverb  "  Magna  est  Veritas"  etc' 


CATHOLICS  AT  OXFORD   (1864-1865)  51 

us,  considering  his  exceeding  suspiciousness  about  people 
near  me,  whom  he  seems  to  think  heretics,  and  his  taking  any 
lukewarmness  about  the  Temporal  Power,  and  any  tolerance 
of  Napoleon,  as  synonymous  with  laxity  of  faith.  We  ought 
to  put  it  to  the  account  of  St.  Philip.' 

At  the  meeting  of  the  Bishops  at  Eastertide  in  1864  a 
resolution  was  drafted  discouraging  Catholics  from  going  to 
Oxford  ;  but  nothing  final  or  decisive  was  done.  The  most 
influential  lay  opinion  was  in  favour  of  Oxford — a  Catholic 
College  or  Hall  being  the  most  popular  scheme.  So  matters 
stood  when  the  '  Apologia  '  was  written. 

Two  months  after  the  completion  of  the  '  Apologia,'  in 
August  1864,  Mr.  Ambrose  Smith,  a  Catholic  resident  in 
Oxford,  had  the  refusal  of  five  acres  of  excellent  land  in 
the  town.  He  conveyed  the  offer  to  Newman.  Newman  felt 
that  it  should  not  be  allowed  to  fall  through.  He  consulted 
his  friends.  The  land  might  be  bought  for  some  religious 
purpose  even  if  its  precise  object  was  not  at  once  determined. 
It  would  be  for  some  work  for  the  Church  in  connection  with 
Oxford — an  Oratory,  a  Hall,  or  a  College,  Newman,  now  on 
the  crest  of  the  wave  of  hope  which  the  '  Apologia  '  had  rolled 
forward,  rose  to  the  notion.  He  communicated  with  Hope- 
Scott  and  other  friends  as  to  the  necessary  purchase  money. 

He  communicated  too  with  Bishop  Ullathorne,  who  offered 
the  Mission  of  Oxford  to  the  Oratory — thus  at  once  giving 
an  assured  and  certainly  lawful  destination  to  the  purchase. 

A  letter  from  Newman  to  Hope-Scott  gives  the  situation 
in  this  first  stage  in  the  negotiations  : 

'August  29th,  1864. 

'The  Bishop  has  offered  us  the  Mission — and  is  collecting 
money  for  Church  and  priest's  house.  They  would  become 
pro  te7}ipore  the  Church  and  House  of  the  Oratory.  No 
college  would  be  set  up,  but  the  priest — i.e.  the  Fathers  of  the 
Oratory — would  take  lodgers. 

'  So  far,  as  far  as  a  plan  goes,  is  fair  sailing,  but  now  can 
the  Or dXory, prop rio  uiotu  (when  once  established  in  Oxford, 
for  this  I  can  do  with  nothing  more  than  the  Bishop's 
consent),  can  the  Oratory,  that  is  I,  when  once  set  up,  without 
saying  a  word  to  any  one,  make  the  Oratory  a  Hall  ?  I 
cannot  tell.  I  don't  sec  why  I  should  not.  The  Oratory 
is  confessedly  out  of  the  Bishop's  jurisdiction.     Propaganda 


52  LIFE    OF    CARDINAL    NEWMAN 

might  at  once  interfere — perhaps  would.  Our  Bishop  left  to 
himself  would  be  for  an  Oxford  Catholic  College  or  Hall  ; 
but  Propaganda  would  be  against  him,  and  my  only  defence 
would  be  the  support  of  the  Catholic  gentry. 

'  Further  the  old  workhouse  stands  on  the  ground  (fronting 
Walton  Street).  It  was  built  of  stone  about  90  years  ago  by 
(Gwynne)  the  architect  of  Magdalen  Bridge — it  has  a  regular 
front  of  perhaps  237  feet.  I  am  writing  for  some  information 
about  it.  Father  Caswall  went  to  see  it,  but  could  not  get 
admittance.  It  holds  150  paupers.  (They  say  it  will  sell, 
i.e.  the  materials,  for  about  400/.)  Perhaps  it  would  admit 
of  fitting  up  as  a  Hall  or  College.  I  daresay  I  could  collect 
money  for  that  specific  purpose — perhaps  Monteith,  Scott 
Murray,  Mr.  Waldron  and  others  would  give  me  100/.  a 
piece — perhaps  I  might  collect  1,000/.  in  that  way,  which 
might  be  enough.  This  plan  would  be  independent  of  any 
Mission  plan,  but  it  is  a  great  point  to  come  in  under  the 
Bishop's  sanction  and  to  be  carrying  out  an  idea  of  his. 
Also,  it  gives  us  an  ostensible  position  quite  independent  of 
the  College  plan.  We  have  our  work  in  Oxford,  though  the 
College  plan  failed.  And  we  can  feel  our  way  much  better. 
It  wouid  not  be  worth  while  coming  to  Oxford  to  keep  a 
mere  lodging  house, — but,  being  there  already  as  Missioners, 
it  is  natural  to  take  youths  into  our  building,  and  many 
parents  would  like  it. 

*  But  now,  per  contra. 

'  I.  At  my  age — when  I  am  sick  of  all  plans — have  little 
energy,  and  declining  strength. 

'  2.  When  we  are  so  few  and  have  so  many  irons  in  the  fire. 

'  3.  How  could  I  mix  again  with  Oxford  men  ?  How 
could  I  "  siccis  oculis  "  see  "  monstra  natantia  "  when  I  walked 
the  streets,  who  had  made  snaps  at  me,  or  looked  "  torve  " 
upon  me  in  times  long  past?  How  could  I  throw  myself 
into  what  might  be  such  painful  re-awakening  animosities? 
How  could  I  adjust  my  position  with  dear  Pusey,  and  others 
who  are  at  present  my  well-wishers  ? 

'  4.  Then  all  the  work  I  might  be  involved  in,  do  what  I 
would  ! 

'  5.  And  the  hot  water  I  might  get  into  with  Propaganda. 
Perhaps  I  should  have  to  kick  my  heels  at  its  door  for  a 
whole  year,  like  poor  Dr.  Baines.  It  would  kill  me.  The 
Catholic  gentry  alone  could  save  me  here. 

'6.  Then  again  I  ought  to  have  a  view  on  all  those 
questions  about  Scripture,  the  antiquity  of  man,  metaphysics, 
evidence,  &c.,  &c.,  which  I  have  not, — and  which,  as  soon  as 


CATHOLICS   AT   OXFORD   (1S64-1865)  53 

I  got,  I  might  get  a  rap  on  the  knuckles  from  Propaganda 
for  divulging. 

'  7.  Then  I  have  had  so  much  disappointment  and 
anxiety, — the  Irish  University  is  such  a  failure — the  Achilli 
matter  was  such  a  scrape — the  School  is  such  a  fidget — that 
I  once  again  quote  against  myself  the  words  of  Euripides  in 
censure  of  ol  irspLcra-ol  or  Lord  Melbourne's  :  "  Why  can't  you 
let  it  alone  ?  " 

'  If  we  did  it  we  should  have  a  resident  curate,  and  a 
resident  dean  or  the  like  ;  and  send  one  of  our  Fathers  to 
and  fro  as  "  Rector,"  which  is  the  Oratorian  name  for  Vice- 
Superior  or  Vice-Provost. 

'  Now  I  have  put  out  all  before  you  ;  and  give  me  your 
opinion  on  the  whole.  I  have  told  Mr.  Ambrose  Smith  I 
will  give  him  his  answer  by  the  8th  September.' 

While  Newman,  after  his  wont,  was  threshing  out  every 
item  of  the  prospect  in  his  correspondence,  weighing  '  pros ' 
and  '  cons,'  asking  for  delay,  Mr.  Ambrose  Smith  died  quite 
unexpectedly.  Then  a  decision  had  to  be  come  to  at  once. 
He  sent  Father  Ambrose  and  Father  Edward  to  Oxford  with 
a  free  hand.  They  bought  the  land  for  8,400/.  Newman 
writes  to  Miss  Giberne  on  October  25  : 

'The  two  Fathers  returned  last  night  at  7,  and  I  am 
writing  to  you  first  of  all  just  after  mass,  knowing  what 
interest  you  will  take  in  it,  how  you  love  both  the  Oratory 
and  Oxford,  and  what  benefit  your  prayers  will  do  me.  The 
sum  is  awful — I  have  to  meet  it  by  the  first  of  January.  Mr. 
Hope-Scott  gives  1000/. — the  Oratory  1000/. — the  rest  I 
must  make  up  out  of  the  private  money  of  Ambrose,  Edward 
and  William,  as  I  can.  And  then  how  are  they  (and  our 
Oratory)  to  live  without  money  !  our  school  does  not  pay — ■ 
our  offertory  does  not  support  the  Sacristy.  Therefore  we 
have  need  of  prayers. 

'The  land  is,  as  fou  would  think,  out  of  Oxford, — but  the 
place  is  growing  in  that  direction — and  is  growing  in  the 
shape  of  gentlefolk  as  well  as  poor — so  that,  independent  of 
the  bearing  of  the  Oratory  on  the  University,  we  think  there 
is  room  for  a  good  mission.  The  ground  beyond  the  Park 
and  the  Observatory  is  getting  covered  with  houses.  The 
'Protestant)  parochial  clergy  are  becoming  married  men — 
the  Tutors,  nay  the  Fellows,  are  marrying — and  the  Pro- 
fessors have  by  late  changes  increased  in  number  and  in 
wealth.     Thus  there  is  a  society  growing  up  in  Oxford,  which 


54  LIFE   OF    CARDINAL    NEWMAxV 

never  was  before,  beyond  the  exclusive  pale  of  Provosts  and 
Presidents.  Well,  the  land  lies  between  Worcester  College, 
the  Printing  Office,  the  Observatory,  St.  Giles's  and  Beau- 
mont Street.  It  is  a  plot  of  5  acres,  on  which  stood  hitherto 
the  Work-house,  which  has  been  removed  now  to  another 
locality.  Hence  the  sale  of  the  ground.  Five  acres  is  a 
square  of  which  each  side  is  nearly  480  feet  long — so  you 
may  think  how  large  it  is.  Christ  Church  Tom  quad  is  a 
square  of  about  260  feet  a  side.  Trinity  College  with  its 
gardens  is  not  5  acres  I  suppose.  Oriel,  I  suspect,  is  little 
more  than  i  acre  or  an  acre  and  a  half.  It  is  far,  far  too 
much  for  an  Oratory — and  the  price  far  too  much,  and  yet 
we  shall  have  extreme  difficulty  in  selling  a  portion  again 
without  loss.  There  is  a  talk  of  an  Oxford  Catholic  College 
— if  so,  we  should  sell  to  it. 

*  We  propose  at  once  to  start  a  subscription  for  a 
Church,  commemorative  of  the  Oxford  Movement,  and  we 
are  sanguine  that  we  shall  get  a  great  deal  of  money.' 

The  idea  of  a  college  was,  however,  soon  definitely  aban- 
doned and  an  Oratory  at  Oxford  was  again  contemplated. 
Newman  writes  thus  to  Mr.  Gaisford  : 

'October  30th,  1864. 

'  In  nothing  can  one  have  one's  own  will,  pure  and  simple, 
and  the  difficulty  is  increased  where  one  is  not  sure  what 
one's  will  is.  The  College  or  Hall  scheme  is  enveloped  in 
difficulty.  .  .  ,  I  look  to  see,  supposing  these  preliminary 
difficulties  overcome,  whether  it  will  be  acceptable  to  Catholics. 
Now  here  I  find  a  strong,  I  may  say  a  growing,  feeling  on 
the  part  of  the  Bishops  against  it.  Our  own  Bishop  who  was 
favourable  to  it  some  time  ago  has  got  stronger  and  stronger 
against  it,  and  the  person  to  whom  he  confided  the  drawing 
up  of  the  memorandum  to  be  sent  to  Propaganda  on  the 
subject,  an  Oxford  man,  gave  his  judgment  against  it.  I  saj- 
nothing  of  the  opposition  of  Dr.  Manning  and  the  Dublin 
Review^  which  is  only  too  well  known.  Nor  is  this  all — 
Catholic  gentlemen  are  beginning  to  prefer  sending  their  boys 
to  the  existing  Colleges — some  have  been  for  doing  so  from 
the  first.  ,  .  ,  The  Catholic  public,  it  is  plain,  take  no  interest 
in  the  scheme.  Whatever  may  happen  years  hence,  it  is 
impracticable  now.  And  I  have  accordingly  ceased  to  think 
of  it. 

'  Hence  I  am  led  to  contemplate,  if  possible,  a  strong 
ecclesiastical  body  in  Oxford  in  order  to  be  a  centre  of  the 
Catholic  youth  there,  and  as  a  defence  against  Protestant 


CATHOLICS   AT   OXFORD   ^1864-1865)  55 

influences.  Now  do  not  think  I  am  contemplating  anythinG^ 
controversial.  Just  the  contrary.  I  would  conciliate  the 
University  if  I  could — but  young  Catholics  must  be  seen  to, 

'  I  repeat,  we  must  do  what  we  can  in  all  things.  Our 
Bishop  takes  up  this  Oratory  view.  He  has  long  been 
wishing  to  make  Oxford  a  strong  Mission.  A  back  yard  in 
St.  Clements  and  a  barn  to  say  Mass  in,  are  not  the  proper 
representatives  of  the  visible  Church.  But,  if  you  do  come 
forward,  if  you  move  on  to  St.  Giles',  any  how  you  will 
frighten  at  first  and  annoy  the  academical  body.  This  is 
unavoidable.  Next,  how  are  you  to  raise  the  money  for  a 
Church  ?  Catholics  will  not  subscribe  to  it  without  a  stimulus. 
Four  years  ago  the  notion  of  a  Memorial  Church  was 
suggested  by  the  Bishop.  I  did  not  enter  into  it  then.  Now 
I  do.  I  think  it  will  gain  the  money,  and  I  don't  see  any 
other  way.  The  watchword  (so  to  call  it,  for  I  am  taking  it 
in  its  most  objectionable  point  of  view)  will  die  away  when 
the  money  is  collected.  Only  the  fabric  will  remain.  It  will 
not  be  written  upon  it  "the  Movement  Church" — if  it  is  still 
an  eyesore,  it  will  be  so,  because  it  is  a  Catholic  Church,  not 
because  it  was  raised  with  a  certain  idea.' 

Newman's  immediate  object,  to  help  the  Catholic  under- 
graduates, and  his  ultimate  aim  — of  influencing  religious 
thought  in  Oxford  with  a  view  to  the  future — are  stated 
incidentally  in  a  letter  to  Mr,  Wetherell : 

'  Tlie  Oratory,  Birmingham  :  Nov.  ist,  1864. 

'  My  dear  Wetherell, —  I  wish  I  could  talk  to  you  instead 
of  writing.  I  am  passing  through  London  and  would  make 
an  appointment  except  that,  from  the  hour  which  I  must  fix, 
it  would  be  impossible  for  you  to  keep,  while  it  would  bind 
me.  At  present  it  looks  as  if  I  should  come  up  to  the 
Paddington  Terminus  on  Thursday  by  the  train  which 
arrives  at  about  ;[  to  11.  If  so,  I  should  go  to  the  coffee 
room.  I  have  been  quite  well  till  now, — but  this  Oxford 
matter  has  for  the  moment  knocked  me  up,  so  that  I  am 
running  away  to  hide  myself 

'  We  arc  proceeding  to  build  a  Church  directly — and  my 
great  difficulty  is  this — to  raise  the  money  by  contributions  I 
must  take  an  ostentatious  line  and  make  a  noise, — to  set 
myself  right  with  the  O.xford  residents,  who  are  at  this 
moment  alarmed,  I  ought  to  be  unostentatious  and  quiet.  I 
truly  wish  the  latter  -I  have  no  intention  of  making  a  row — 
no  wish  to  angle  for  heedless  undergraduates.  I  go  primarily 
and  directly  to   take  care   of  the    Catholic  youth  who   are 


56  LIFE    OF    CARDINAL    NEWMAN 

beginning  to  go  there,  and  are  in  Protestant  Colleges.  And 
what  I  aim  at  is  not  immediate  conversions,  but  to  influence, 
as  far  as  an  old  man  can,  the  tone  of  thought  in  the  place, 
with  a  view  to  a  distant  time  when  I  shall  be  no  longer  here. 
I  do  not  want  controversy.  So  much  for  the  University — as 
to  the  town  people,  of  course  I  shall  have  no  objection,  if  I 
can,  to  convert  them — -not  that  their  souls  are  more  precious, 
but  that  they  can  be  got  (if  so)  without  greater  counter- 
balancing evils. 

'  Then  on  the  other  hand,  I  do  come  out  with  a  watch- 
word— viz.  the  Church  is  to  be  a  sort  of  thank-offering  on 
the  part  of  the  converts  of  the  last  30  years.  How  can  I 
raise  the  money  unless  this  be  understood  ? 

'  I  don't  expect  to  leave  Birmingham. 

'  Very  sincerely  yours, 

John  H.  Newman. 

'  P.S. — You  may  use  what  I  have  said  at  your  discretion, 
but  not  on  my  authority! 

The  work  Newman  contemplated  was  to  be  done  not  in 
opposition  to,  but  rather  in  unison  with,  the  Church  of 
England  and  the  other  religious  forces  in  Oxford.  The 
danger  from  which  he  wished  to  protect  the  undergraduates 
was  free  thought.  In  a  remarkable  letter  four  years  earlier 
he  had  declined  the  proposal  that  he  should  take  part  in 
building  a  new  church  at  Oxford,  on  the  very  ground  that  he 
thought  controversy  with  Anglicans  in  Oxford  undesirable. 
This  letter — addressed  to  Canon  Estcourt  and  dated  June  2, 
1 860 — ran  as  follows  : 

'  You  seemed  to  think  with  me  that  the  Catholics  of 
Oxford  do  not  require  a  new  Church  :  if  then  a  subscription 
is  commenced  for  a  new  one,  it  will  be  with  a  view  to  making 
converts  from  the  University.  Indeed,  I  think  you  will 
allow  this  to  be  the  view :  for  it  was  on  this  very  ground 
that  you  wished  me,  and  the  only  ground  on  which  you 
could  wish  me,  to  take  part  in  it.  You  said  that  my  name 
would  draw  aid  from  converts — and  you  were  kind  enough 
to  wish  that  the  Church  thus  built  should  be  in  a  certain 
sense  a  memorial  of  my  former  position  in  Oxford.  Now 
a  controversial  character  thus  given  to  new  ecclesiastical 
establishments  there,  whatever  be  its  expedience  in  itself, 
would  be  the  very  circumstance  which  would  determine  me 
personally  against  taking  that  part  in  promoting  them,  which 
you  assign  to  me.     It  would  do  more  harm  than  good. 


CATHOLICS   AT   OXFORD   (1864-1865)  57 

*  To  take  part  in  this  would  be  surely  inconsistent  with 
the  sentiments  which  I  have  ever  acted  upon,  since  I  have 
been  a  Catholic.  My  first  act  was  to  leave  the  neighbour- 
hood of  Oxford,  where  I  found  myself,  at  considerable  incon- 
venience. When  I  heard  the  question  of  a  new  Oxford 
Church  mooted  at  Stonyhurst  soon  after,  I  spoke  against  it. 
In  all  that  I  have  written,  I  have  spoken  of  Oxford  and  the 
Oxford  system  with  affection  and  admiration.  I  have  put 
its  system  forward,  as  an  instance  of  that  union  of  dogmatic 
teaching  and  liberal  education  which  command  my  assent. 
I  have  never  acted  in  direct  hostility  to  the  Church  of 
England.  I  have,  in  my  lectures  on  Anglicanism,  professed 
no  more  than  to  carry  on  "children  of  the  Movement  of 
1833"  to  their  legitimate  conclusions.  In  my  lectures  on 
Catholicism  in  England,  I  oppose,  not  the  Anglican  Church, 
but  National  Protestantism,  and  Anglicans  only  so  far  as 
they  belong  to  it.  In  taking  part  in  building  a  new  Church 
at  Oxford,  I  should  be  commencing  a  line  of  conduct  which 
would  require  explanation.  .  .  . 

'  While  I  do  not  see  my  way  to  take  steps  to  weaken  the 
Church  of  England,  being  what  it  is,  least  of  all  should  I  be 
disposed  to  do  so  in  Oxford,  which  has  hitherto  been  the 
seat  of  those  traditions  which  constitute  whatever  there  is 
of  Catholic  doctrine  and  principle  in  the  Anglican  Church. 
That  there  are  also  false  traditions  there,  I  know  well :  I 
know  too  that  there  is  a  recent  importation  of  scepticism  and 
infidelity  ;  but,  till  things  are  very  much  changed  there,  in 
weakening  Oxford,  we  are  weakening  our  friends,  weakening 
our  own  de  facto  Traiha^ywyhs  into  the  Church.  Catholics 
did  not  make  us  Catholics  ;  Oxford  made  us  Catholics.  At 
present  Oxford  surely  does  more  good  than  harm.  There 
has  been  a  rage  for  shooting  sparrows  of  late  years,  under  the 
notion  that  they  are  the  farmers'  enemies.  Now,  it  is  dis- 
covered that  they  do  more  good  by  destroying  insects  than 
harm  by  picking  up  the  seed.  In  Australia,  I  believe,  they 
are  actually  importing  them.  Is  there  not  something  of  a 
parallel  here  ? 

*  I  go  further  than  a  mere  tolerance  of  Oxford  ;  as  I  have 
said,  I  wish  to  suffer  the  Church  of  England.  The  Establish- 
ment has  ever  been  a  breakwater  against  Unitarianism, 
fanaticism,  and  infidelity.  It  has  ever  loved  us  better  than 
Puritans  or  Independents  have  loved  us.  And  it  receives  all 
that  abuse  and  odium  of  dogmatism,  or  at  least  a  good  deal 
of  it,  which  otherwise  would  be  directed  against  us.  I  should 
have    the    greatest    repugnance   to    introducing    controversy 


S8  LIFE    OF    CARDINAL    NEWMAN 

into  those  quiet  circles  and  sober  schools  of  thought  which 
are  the  strength  of  the  Church  of  England.  It  is  another 
thing  altogether  to  introduce  controversy  to  individual 
minds  which  are  already  unsettled,  or  have  a  drawing 
towards  Catholicism.  Altogether  another  thing  in  a  place 
like  Birmingham,  where  nearly  everyone  is  a  nothingarian, 
an  infidel,  a  sceptic,  or  an  inquirer.  Here  Catholic  efforts 
are  not  only  good  in  themselves,  and  do  good,  but  cannot 
possibly  do  any  even  incidental  harm — here,  whatever  is 
done  is  so  much  gain.  In  Oxford  you  would  unsettle 
many,  and  gain  a  few,  if  you  did  your  most. 

*  If  a  Catholic  Church  were  in  a  position  there  suitable 
for  acting  upon  Undergraduates,  first  it  would  involve  on 
their  part  a  conscious  breach  of  University  and  College 
regulations  ;  then  it  would  attract  just  those  who  were  likely 
to  be  unstable,  and  who  perhaps  in  a  year  or  two  would  lapse 
back  to  Protestantism  ;  and  then,  it  would  create  great  bitter- 
ness of  feeling  and  indignation  against  Catholics,  prejudice 
fair  minds  against  the  truth,  and  diminish  the  chances  of  our 
being  treated  with  equity  at  Oxford  or  elsewhere.' 

But  while  he  had  thus  declined  in  1 860  to  place  antagonism 
between  the  forces  of  Anglicanism  and  Catholicism  in  Oxford, 
or  to  countenance  proselytism,  another  idea  now  gradually 
grew  upon  him,  that  he  might  help  to  do  what  Pusey  and  his 
friends  had  been  attempting  in  Oxford — that  he  might  serve 
the  cause  of  Christian  philosophy  against  the  incoming  tide 
of  freethought.' 

The  next  step  was  to  appeal  for  funds,  and  Newman  drew 
up  a  careful  circular  with  this  object,  and  submitted  it  to 
Hope-Scott.  The  proposal  was  not  only  to  pay  for  the  land, 
but  to  erect  a  church  commemorative  of  the  Oxford  con- 
versions of  1845.  This  proposal,  which  Newman  had  de- 
clined when  it  appeared  to  be  a  controversial  demonstration, 
he  now  accepted  in  new  circumstances  ;  but  he  carefully 
eliminated  all  controversial  matter  from  his  circular.  The 
circular  had  to  be  framed  with  great  care.  For  the  opposi- 
tion of  the  hierarchy  to  Catholics  entering  the  existing 
Oxford  colleges  had  to  be  taken  into  account.  This 
difficulty  appears  in  a  letter  to  Hope-Scott  : 

'  His  appreciation  of  Pusey's  work  in  this  respect,  and  his  sense  that  it 
was  one  with  which  Catholics  should  deeply  sympathise,  is  indicated  in  a  letter 
to  Lord  Braye.     See  p.  486. 


CATHOLICS   AT   OXFORD   (1864-1865)  59 

'  October  31st,  1864. 

*  I  am  not  sure  that  I  understood  your  letter.  I  believe 
it  means  this  : — "  don't  give  up  the  idea  of  a  College  or 
Hall — don't  cut  off  the  chance  of  it.  To  say  you  are  sent  to 
the  Catholic  youth  in  the  existing  Colleges  is  a  sort  of 
recognition  of  those  Colleges  as  a  fit  place  for  them,  and 
an  acquiescence  in  the  abandonment  of  the  College  or  Hall 
scheme.  Therefore  speak  of  the  existing  admission  to  the 
University,  not  Colleges."  I  have  altered  it  to  meet  this 
idea. 

'  Also,  I  have  cut  off  the  part  to  which  you  object.  Still, 
I  have  spoken  of  the  spirit  of  the  Oratory,  because  it  ever  has 
been  peaceable,  unpolitical,  conceding,  and  quiet.  You  may 
think  it,  however,  as  sounding  like  a  fling  at  the  Jesuits,  &c. 
For  this,  or  atty  other  reason,  draw  your  pen  across  it  if  you 
think  best' 

The  circular  sent  to  his  friends,  together  with  the 
Bishop's  letter  entrusting  the  Mission  to  him  entirely,  ran  as 
follows  : 

*  Father  Newman  having  been  entrusted  by  his  Diocesan 
with  the  Mission  of  Oxford,  is  proceeding,  with  the  sanction 
of  Propaganda,  to  the  establishment  there  of  a  House  of  the 
Oratory. 

'  Some  such  establishment  in  one  of  the  great  seats  of 
learning  seems  to  be  demanded  of  English  Catholics  at  a 
time  when  the  relaxation  both  of  controversial  animosity  and 
of  legal  restriction  has  allowed  them  to  appear  before  their 
countrymen  in  the  full  profession  and  the  genuine  attributes 
of  their  Holy  Religion, 

'  And,  while  there  is  no  place  in  England  more  likely 
than  Oxford  to  receive  a  Catholic  community  with  fairness, 
interest,  and  intelligent  curiosity,  so  on  the  other  hand  the 
English  Oratory  has  this  singular  encouragement  in  placing 
itself  there,  that  it  has  been  expressly  created  and  blessed 
by  the  reigning  Pontiff  for  the  very  purpose  of  bringing 
Catholicity  before  the  educated  classes  of  society,  and 
especially  those  classes  which  represent  the  traditions  and 
the  teaching  of  Oxford. 

'  Moreover,  since  many  of  its  priests  have  been  educated 
at  the  Universities,  it  brings  to  its  work  an  acquaintance  and 
a  sympathy  with  Academical  habits  and  sentiments,  which 
are  a  guarantee  of  its  inoffensive  bearing  towards  the 
members  of  another  communion,  and  which  will  specially 
enable  it  to  discharge  its  sacred  duties  in  the  peaceable  and 


6o  LIFE    OF    CARDINAL    NEWMAN 

conciliatory  spirit  which  is  the  historical  characteristic  of  the 
sons  of  St.  Philip  Neri. 

'  Father  Newman  has  already  secured  a  site  for  an 
Oratory  Church  and  buildings  in  an  eligible  part  of  Oxford  ; 
and  he  now  addresses  himself  to  the  work  of  collecting  the 
sums  necessary  for  carrying  his  important  undertaking  into 
effect.  This  he  is  able  to  do  under  the  sanction  of  the 
following  letter  from  the  Bishop  of  the  Diocese,  which  it  gives 
him  great  satisfaction  to  publish.' 

For  two  months  all  seemed  to  go  well.  Newman  was 
living  among  his  own  friends  and  did  not  realise  the  potent 
forces  which  were  working  against  him,  of  which  I  shall 
speak  directly.  Mr.  VVetherell  was  especially  active  on  his 
behalf  He  engaged  the  services  of  the  able  architect 
Mr.  Henry  Clutton  for  the  buildings  in  connection  with  the 
Oxford  Oratory.  Newman's  old  Oxford  friend  James  Laird 
Patterson  took  him  to  see  Cardinal  Wiseman  to  talk  things 
over.  Wiseman's  uncordial  reception  of  him  was  ascribed 
by  them  both  to  ill-health.  Of  the  determined  opposition 
to  the  scheme  which,  at  the  instigation  of  Manning  and 
W.  G.  Ward,  the  Cardinal  was  preparing  to  offer,  they  had 
no  suspicion  ;  so  all  letters  up  to  the  middle  of  November 
speak  of  sanguine  hope.     A  few  specimens  shall  suffice : 

'Brighton:  November  5th,  1864. 

'  My  dear  Ambrose, — We  came  here  last  night  as  a  first 
stage  towards  Hastings,  whither  we  find  Pollen  has  gone. 
It  is  cold  and  raw  here. 

'  Our  day  in  London  was  successful.  Patterson  has  no 
idea  at  all  of  leaving  London,  and,  when  he  said  he  put 
himself  at  my  disposal,  he  meant  to  make  the  offer,  con- 
sistently with  his  being  at  the  disposal  of  the  Westminster 
Diocese.  However,  he  is  very  warm.  .  .  .  He  thought  that 
Oxford  offered  a  large  field  for  conversions.  I  daresay  he 
would  be  more  desirous  of  manifestations  than  I  should  be. 

'  Wetherell  and  Clutton  both  were  in  high  spirits  and 
hopes  about  the  Oxford  scheme,  and  prophesied  all  that  was 
good  and  glorious.  Yard'  I  could  not  see,  as  it  was  St.  Charles's 
day — I  must  see  him  in  returning.  There  will  be  an  article 
on  the  Oxford  matter  in  the  Daily  News  of  this  day.  .  .  . 
Clutton  is  coming  to  us  on  Monday  14th — going  first  to 
Oxford. 

'  Father  Yard  was  one  of  the  Oblates  of  St.  Charles  at  Bayswater. 


CATHOLICS   AT    OXFORD    (1864-1S65)  61 

'  Patterson  said  he  was  going  to  the  Cardinal,  who  had 
not  been  well.  ...  I  went  with  him,  and  saw  the  poor 
Cardinal  for  ten  minutes.  I  saw  him,  I  suppose,  in  his  usual 
state — relaxed,  feeble,  and  dejected.'  On  ringing  at  the 
door,  I  had  said  to  Patterson,  "  You  must  bring  me  off  in 
five  minutes  for  the  Cardinal  is  so  entertaining  a  talker  that 
it  is  always  difficult  to  get  away  from  him."  Alas,  what 
I  never  could  have  fancied  beforehand,  I  was  the  only 
speaker.  I  literally  talked.  He  is  anxious  about  his  eyes. 
Patterson  calls  it  "  congestion."  The  C.  says  that  the 
London  fog  tries  them.  He  was  just  down — two  o'clock  or 
half  past  two.  He  listened  to  the  Oxford  plan,  half  queru- 
lously, and  said  that  he  thought  the  collection  for  St.  Thomas 
at  Rome  would  interfere  with  getting  money  from  the 
Continent. 

'  Ever  yours  affectionately, 

John  H.  Newman.' 

Newman  to  Mother  Imelda  Poole. 

'  The  Oratory  :  November  1 6th,  1864. 

*  We  shall  have  plenty  of  trials  in  time,  but  at  present  the 
sky  is  very  clear  and  bright,  and  the  landscape  is  rose-colour. 
Alas,  that  bright  mornings  are  the  soonest  overcast  !  So 
great  a  work  cannot  be  done  without  great  crosses, — yet  I 
don't  like  to  say  so,  for  it  is  like  prophesying  against  myself, 
and  I  do  not  like  trial  at  all.  What  is  to  happen  if  we  are 
not  preserved  in  health  and  strength  !  We  have  few  enough 
to  work  if  we  have  our  all — we  have  not  a  quarter  of  a  Father 
to  spare — but  we  must  leave  all  this  to  Him  Who  we  trust  is 
employing  us.' 

Newman  to  Henry  Wilberforce. 

'  The  Oratory  :   November  i6th,  1864. 

'  As  to  Oxford,  we  are  astonished  at  our  own  doings — 
and  our  only  hope  is  that  we  arc  doing  God's  Will  in  thus 
portentously  involving  ourselves  both  in  money  matters 
and  in  worl:.  I  should  like  a  long  talk  with  you,  though  just 
now  I  am  confined  to  my  room  with  a  bad  cold.  My  friends 
here  sent  me  away  suddenly  to  the  South  Coast  because  I 
was  not  quite  well,— and,  coming  back  from  that  delightful 
climate  to  this  keen  one,  I  have  been  knocked  up  by  it.     I 

'  '  N.B.  I  afterwards  had  reason  for  thinking  that  a  deep  opposition  to  my 
going  to  Oxford  was  the  cause  of  the  Cardinal's  manner.  Of  this  I  was  quite 
unsuspicious. 

'J.  II.  N.      Nov.  4th,  1875.' 


62  LIFE    OF    CARDINAL    NEWMAN 

think  I  should  live  ten  years  longer  if  I  was  at  Hastings  or 
Brighton,  but  here,  when  I  am  older,  a  cold  caught  may 
carry  me  off.  Since  I  came  back,  I  have  been  hard  at  the 
letters  which  came  in  my  absence, — so  you  must  excuse  my 
delay  in  answering  you. 

'  We  are  going  to  build  a  Church  at  once,  and,  though  the 
mission  is  very  small  at  present,  we  are  sanguine  that  we 
shall  increase  it  enough  to  make  it  pay  the  interest  of  our 
great  expenses.  The  Bishop  has  given  us  a  strong  letter, 
and  I  trust  we  shall  collect  a  large  sum  for  the  Church. 
Everything  looks  favourable  at  the  moment,  but  of  course  we 
shall  have  plenty  of  crosses  as  time  goes  on.' 

To  Canon  Walker. 

•November  17,  1864.  .  .  . 

'  There  is  just  now  a  very  remarkable  feeling  in  my 
favour  at  Oxford — a  friend  of  mine,  who  has  lately  been 
there,  writes  word  "  Unless  I  had  seen  it  with  my  own 
eyes,  I  could  not  have  believed  how  strong  is  the  attach- 
ment, for  that  is  the  word,  with  which  you  are  regarded 
by  all  parties  up  there."  A  head  of  a  House  says  "  every 
one  would  welcome  you  in  Oxford."  An  undergraduate 
writes  to  me  :  "  There  is  a  report  that  you  were  at  Oriel  last 
Friday  incognito  ;  it  caused  great  excitement,  I  am  sure, 
if  it  were  known  you  were  coming  here  on  any  particular 
day,  the  greater  part  of  the  University  would  escort  you  in 
procession  into  the  Town."  Do  not  viention  all  this — of 
course  I  cannot  reckon  on  the  feeling  lasting,  but  it  is 
hopeful,  as  a  beginning.  The  whole  course  of  things  has 
been  wonderful — and  there  seems  to  me  a  call  on  me  to 
follow  it,  without  looking  forward  to  the  future.  If  we 
come  to  a  cul-de-sac,  we  must  back  out' 

The  grounds  of  fear  put  forward  in  the  letter  to  Mother 
Imelda  Poole  read  as  the  suggestings  of  a  morbid  fancy. 
But  the  instinct  which  prompted  his  anxiety  proved  a  true 
one.  W.  G.  Ward  during  the  two  years  in  which  he  had 
edited  the  Dublin  Review  had  developed  and  defined  his 
views  on  Catholic  culture  in  opposition  to  what  he  regarded 
as  the  secularist  spirit  of  the  Rambler  and  Home  and 
Foreign.  He  regarded  the  prospect  of  Catholics  going  to 
Oxford  as  a  surrender  of  the  whole  situation.  The  rising 
generation,  the  future  representatives  of  the  Church  in 
England,  would  be  at  Oxford  during  the  most  plastic  years 


CATHOLICS   AT   OXFORD   (i 864-1 865)  63 

in  which  their  views  were  being  formed  and  their  characters 
moulded,  surrounded  by  the  indifferentist  atmosphere  of  a 
University  in  which  some  of  the  ablest  thought  was  now 
agnostic  in  its  tendency.  With  all  the  zeal  of  a  Crusader 
he  opposed  the  project.  He  did  not  in  his  writings  on  the 
subject  enter  into  the  considerations  which  the  Moderate 
party  urged.  He  did  not  deal  with  the  individual  cases 
where  the  absence  of  Oxford  life  might  conceivably  do 
much  more  harm  than  its  presence  could  do.  For  many, 
the  alternative  was  Woolwich  or  Sandhurst — places  fraught 
with  far  greater  dangers  than  Oxford  to  those  whose  trials 
were  moral  rather  than  intellectual.  Again,  he  did  not 
treat  of  the  practical  prospects  of  those  rich  young  men  to 
whom  the  prospect  of  a  career — so  difficult  to  realise  if  the 
Universities  were  tabooed — is  the  best  safeguard  against 
very  obvious  temptations  to  a  life  of  pleasure.  He  was 
exclusively  occupied  with  the  necessity  of  making  loyalty 
to  Church  authority  and  other  religious  first  principles 
supremely  influential  in  the  rising  generation,  by  jealously 
guarding  these  principles  in  youth  and  early  manhood. 
More  than  all,  he  dreaded  the  insidious  intellectual  and 
worldly  maxims  of  a  secular  University — the  principles  of 
'  religious  Liberalism '  as  he  called  them.  Such  maxims 
were  calculated  so  to  dilute  the  Catholic  'ethos'  at  the  most 
critical  moment  in  the  formation  of  character  as  to  bring  up 
a  generation  of  merely  nominal  Catholics. 

'  Since  the  season  of  childhood  and  youth  is  immeasurably 
the  most  impressible  of  all,'  he  wrote  in  the  Dublin  Review, 
'  it  is  impossible  to  exaggerate  the  importance  of  preserving 
the  purity  of  a  Catholic  atmosphere  throughout  the  whole 
of  Catholic  education.  ,  .  .  Even  intellectually  speaking,  no 
result  can  well  be  more  deplorable  than  that  which  tends  to 
ensue  from  mixed  education.  There  is  no  surer  mark  of  an 
uncultivated  mind,  than  that  a  man's  practical  judgment  on 
facts  as  they  occur,  shall  be  at  variance  with  the  theoretical 
principles  which  he  speculatively  accepts.  .  .  .  Now  this 
is  the  natural  result  of  mixed  education.  The  unhappy 
Catholic  who  is  so  disadvantageously  circumstanced  tends  to 
become  the  very  embodiment  of  inconsistency.  Catholic  in 
his  speculative  convictions,  non-Catholic  in  his  practical 
judgments  ;  holding  one  doctrine  as  a  universal    truth,  and 


64  LIFE    OF    CARDINAL    NEWMAN 

a  doctrine  precisely  contradictory  in  almost  every  particular 
which  that  universal  truth  embraces.' 


Ward  had  many  sympathisers  in  his  attitude — among 
them  Dr.  Grant,  Bishop  of  Southvvark,  and  his  own  intimate 
friends  the  two  future  Cardinals,  Manning  and  Vaughan.  At 
the  news  of  Newman's  plan,  these  men  made  urgent  repre- 
sentations to  Propaganda  and  to  Cardinal  Wiseman  as  to  the 
necessity  of  immediate  action  being  taken  to  prevent  its 
going  further.  Newman's  presence  at  Oxford  would  mean 
past  recovery  the  triumph  of  mixed  education.  Ward  wrote 
to  Talbot  at  the  Vatican  to  secure  Propaganda  on  the  anti- 
Oxford  side.     Vaughan  went  to  Rome  itself. 

In  Rome  there  was  every  disposition  to  take  a  strong  line 
against  mixed  education,  for  the  national  Universities  in  the 
countries  with  which  the  authorities  were  most  familiar  were 
positively  anti-Christian,  and  young  men  rarely  emerged  from 
them  with  definite  Christian  belief.  Even  in  a  country  where 
Catholicism  was  as  strong  as  it  was  in  Belgium  the  Catholic 
University  of  Louvain  was  founded  expressly  to  counteract 
this  danger.  The  whole  tendency  of  the  Ultramontane 
movement  was  towards  endeavouring  to  secure  a  body  of 
zealous  and  even  militant  young  Catholics  to  fight  the  battles 
of  the  Holy  See  and  the  Church.  Governments  and  popula- 
tions were  no  longer  Catholic.  The  national  life  was  hardly 
anywhere  Catholic.  In  such  circumstances,  to  keep  faith  and 
zeal  intact  it  was  necessary  to  withdraw  from  the  world. 
Education  both  primary  and  secondary  must  be  suited  to  the 
policy  of  falling  back  behind  the  Catholic  entrenchments  to 
do  battle  with  the  modern  spirit.  Gregory  XVI.  and  his 
successor  had  both  opposed  the  Queen's  Colleges  in  Ireland. 
When  Ward,  Manning,  and  Vaughan  represented  that  Oxford 
would  turn  out  young  men  who  were  Catholics  in  name 
only,  Pius  IX.  was  ready  enough  to  believe  that  Oxford  was 
no  better  than  Brussels  ;  that  the  best  policy  for  Belgium 
would  prove  the  best  policy  for  England.  That  the  conditions 
in  the  two  countries  were  fundamentally  different,  that  Oxford 
was  not  a  school  of  infidelity,  that  it  might  be  even  still  open 
to  religious  influences,  was  a  thought  which  was  probably  not 
suggested  to  him.     Therefore,  when  Vaughan  went  to  Rome 


CATHOLICS   AT   OXFORD  (1864-1865)  65 

as  the  ambassador  of  the  party,  he  found  ears  ready  enough 
to  Hsten  to  him  at  Propaganda. 

The  news  of  the  proceedings  of  Ward  and  Manning,  with 
its  ominous  significance  as  to  the  inevitable  sequel,  burst  upon 
Newman  a  week  after  the  hopeful  letters  we  have  just  read. 
Newman  saw  the  gravity  of  the  situation.  His  one  hope  was 
in  strong  representations  to  Propaganda  on  the  part  of  the 
laity.  He  at  once  conveyed  the  intelligence  of  what  had 
occurred  to  Hope-Scott. 

'  The  Bishops  are  to  meet  quaui  primiim,'  he  wrote  to 
Hope-Scott  on  November  23rd,  '  not  to  settle  the  University 
question,  but  to  submit  their  opinions  to  Propaganda,  that 
Propaganda  may  decide.  Propaganda  seems  to  be  at  the 
mercy  of  Manning,  Ward,  and  Dr.  Grant.  For  this  meeting 
does  not  proceed  from  the  Bishops.  It  is  not  off  the  cards, 
though,  of  course,  very  improbable,  that  going  to  Oxford  will 
be  made  a  reserved  case. 

'  Now  I  repeat  what  I  have  said  before,  that,  unless  the 
Catholic  gentry  make  themselves  heard  at  Rome,  a  small 
active  clique  will  carry  the  day.' 

Mr.  Wetherell  at  once  got  up  a  lay  petition  to  Propa- 
ganda in  favour  of  Catholics  going  to  Oxford,  and  took  it 
himself  to  Rome  early  in  the  following  year.  But  he  accom- 
plished nothing.  Meanwhile  Newman  had  an  interview  with 
Bishop  Ullathorne  before  the  end  of  November  and  learnt 
from  him  fully  the  condition  of  affairs.  He  writes  of  the 
prospect  despairingly  to  Hope-Scott  on  November  28  : 

'  At  present  I  am  simply  off  the  rails.  I  do  not  know 
how  to  doubt  that  the  sudden  meeting  of  the  Bishops  has 
been  ordered  apropos  of  my  going  to  Oxford.  If  I 
can  understand  our  Bishop,  the  notion  is  to  forbid  young 
Catholics  to  go  to  Oxford,  and  to  set  up  a  University  else- 
where. If  so,  what  have  I  to  do  with  Oxford  ?  what  call 
have  I,  at  the  end  of  twenty  years,  apropos  of  nothing,  to 
open  theological  trenches  against  the  Doctors  and  Professors 
of  the  University  ?  ' 

In  a  few  weeks  the  whole  Oxford  scheme  was  definitely 

dropped.     The    Bishops    met   on    December  13  and  passed 

resolutions  in  favour  of  an  absolute  prohibition  of  Oxford. 

The    confirmation    of    their    act    by    Propaganda    was    not 

VOL.  II.  F 


66  LIFE    OF   CARDINAL    NEWMAN 

doubtful.     Propaganda  had  indeed  informally  intimated  its 
own  judgment  in  the  same  direction. 

But,  moreover,  a  set  of  questions  was  drawn  up  and  sent 
to  many  leading  Oxford  converts,  inviting  their  opinion 
as  to  the  advisability  of  Catholics  going  to  Oxford.  The 
answers  were  to  be  sent  to  Propaganda  for  its  enlightenment. 
The  questions  were  not  sent  to  Newman  or  any  of  his 
sympathisers.  They  implied  in  their  form  that  an  adverse 
answer  on  each  point  was  the  only  one  open  to  a  sound 
Catholic.  Their  authorship  I  have  been  unable  to  discover. 
But  they  were  clearly  drawn  up  by  some  one  whose  opposition 
to  the  Oxford  scheme  was  uncompromising.  They  were  sent 
by  Dr.  Grant,  Bishop  of  Southwark,  to  Mr.  Gaisford  among 
others,  and  Mr.  Gaisford  returned  answers  strongly  favourable 
to  Catholics  frequenting  the  Universities.^  These  answers  he 
forwarded  to  Newman  with  the  text  of  the  questions  themselves. 

Newman  in  a  letter  to  Mr.  Gaisford  thus  commented  on 
his  answers  and  on  the  questions  themselves  : 

'  December  i6th,  1864. 

'  I  heard  of  the  questions  for  the  first  time  three  days  ago. 
I  had  not  seen  them  or  any  one  of  them  till  you  sent  them. 
As  for  my  own  opinion,  it  has  never  been  asked  in  any 
shape. 

'  Such  a  paper  of  questions  is  deplorable — deplorable 
because  they  are  not  questions  but  arguments,  worse  than 
"  leading  questions."  They  might  as  well  have  been  summed 
up  in  one — viz.,  "Are  you  or  are  you  not,  one  of  those 
wicked  men  who  advocate  Oxford  education  ? "  for  they 
imply  a  condemnation  of  the  respondent  if  he  does  not  reply 
in  one  way. 

'  I  do  not  believe  that  the  meeting,  or  the  questions,  came 
from  the  Bishops.  They  come  from  unknown  persons,  who 
mislead  Propaganda,  put  the  screw  on  the  Bishops,  and 
would  shut  up  our  school  if  they  could, —  and  perhaps  will. 

'  As  to  our  Bishop,  I  formally  told  him  a  month  before 
I  bought  the  ground  that,  if  I  accepted  the  Mission,  and 
proposed  to  introduce  the  Oratory  to  Oxford,  it  was  solely 
for  the  sake  of  the  Catholics  in  the  Colleges.  Yet  he  let 
me  go  on.     In  truth  he  knew  of  no  real  difficulty  or  hitch  in 

'  The   text  of  the  questions   and   of  Mr.    Gaisford's  reply  is  given   in  the 
Appendix  at  p.  540. 


CATHOLICS   AT  OXFORD  (1864-1865)  67 

prospect.  I  believe  the  news  of  the  intended  Bishops' 
meeting  was  a  surprise  to  him. 

'  I  think  your  letter  and  answers  very  good,  very  much 
to  the  point.  There  is  a  straightforwardness  in  them  which 
must  tell,  if  they  are  read. 

'  It  is  the  laity's  concern,  not  ours.  There  are  those  who 
contrast  the  English  laity  with  the  Irish,  and  think  that  the 
English  will  stand  anything.  Such  persons  will  bully,  if 
they  are  allowed  to  do  so ;  but  will  not  show  fight  if  they 
are  resisted.' 

By  the  end  of  the  month  it  was  quite  clear  to  Newman 
that  the  whole  Oxford  scheme  was  at  an  end,  as  he  says  in 
a  sad  letter  to  .Sister  Imelda  Poole  of  Stone  : 

'  December  28lh,  1864. 

'  '  As  to  the  Oxford  scheme  it  is  still  the  Blessed  Will  of 
God  to  send  me  baulks.  On  the  whole,  I  suppose,  looking 
through  my  life  as  a  course,  He  is  using  me,  but  really 
viewed  in  its  separate  parts  it  is  but  a  life  of  failures.  My 
Bishop  gave  mc  the  Mission  without  my  asking  for  it.  I  told 
him  that  I  should  not  think  of  going,  except  for  the  sake  of 
Catholic  youths  there,  and  with  his  perfect  acquiescence  I 
bought  the  ground.  It  cost  8,400/.  When  all  this  had 
been  done  there  was  an  interposition  of  Propaganda,  for 
which  I  believe  he  was  absolutely  unprepared,  and  the  more 
so,  because,  as  I  heard  at  the  time,  the  collected  Bishops  had 
last  year  recommended  Propaganda  to  do  nothing  in  the 
Oxford  question.  However,  on  the  news  coming  to  certain 
people  in  London  that  I  was  going  to  Oxford,  they  influenced 
Propaganda  to  interfere,  and  the  whole  scheme  is,  I  conceive, 
at  an  end.  Of  course,  if  Propaganda  brings  out  any  letter  of 
disapproval  of  young  Catholics  going  to  Oxford,  (and  people 
think  it  is  certain  to  do  so)  my  going  there  is  either  super- 
fluous, or  undutiful — superfluous  if  there  are  no  Catholics 
there — undutiful  if  my  going  is  an  inducement  to  them,  or  an 
excuse  and  shelter  for  their  going  there  ?  ' 

To  the  same  effect  he  wrote  to  Miss  Gibcrne,  adding  as  a 
postscript,  'does  it  not  seem  queer  that  the  two  persons  who 
arc  now  most  opposed  to  me  are  Manning  and  Ward  ?  ' 

And  so  four  short  months  saw  the  dawn,  the  promise,  the 
defeat  of  the  hopeful  dreams  which  the  success  of  the 
*  Apologia  '  had  kindled. 

The  expected  rescript  from  Propaganda  came  early  in 
1865,  and  Nqwman  wrote  of  it  thus  to  Mr.  John  Pollen  : 

F  2 


68  LIFE    OF    CARDINAL    NEWMAN 

'  Have  you  seen  the  sweeping  sentence  of  the  Bishops 
on  the  Oxford  matter?  I  consider  that  Propaganda  has 
ordered  the  Bishops  to  be  of  one  mind,  and  they  have 
not  been  able  to  help  it,  and  that  Manning  has  persuaded 
Propaganda, 

'  It  is  to  be  observed  that  they  do  not  order  their  clergy 
to  dissuade  parents,  but  give  their  judgment  for  the  guidance 
of  the  Clergy.  This  I  interpret  to  mean  (i)  that  each  case 
of  going  to  Oxford  is  to  be  taken  by  itself,  (2)  that  leave  is 
to  be  asked  by  parents  in  the  Confessional. 

'  But  so  far  is  clear,  that,  unless  Wetherell  brings  some 
modification  from  Rome  (which  I  don't  think  he  will)  no 
School,  as  ourselves,  can  educate  with  a  professed  view  to 
Oxford.  The  decision  includes  the  London  University  and 
Trinity  College,  Dublin. 

'  It  seems  as  if  they  wanted  to  put  down  the  whole  matter 
at  once.  And  I  suppose  they  will  follow  it  up  by  some 
attempted  organisation  of  English  Education  generally.  I 
never  should  be  surprised  if  our  School  was  directly  or 
indirectly  attacked.' 

Mr.  Wetherell  and  his  deputation  had,  as  I  have  inti- 
mated, no  success  :  got  indeed  barely  a  hearing.  Newman's 
friends  urged  him  to  go  in  person  to  Rome,  but  he  knew  that 
he  could  effect  nothing  against  the  active  campaign  of 
Manning  and  Ward  aided  by  Mgr.  Talbot  at  the  Vatican 
itself  His  feelings  on  the  situation  are  expressed  in  the 
following  letters  to  Miss  Bowles  : 

'March  31st,  1865. 

*  I  was  going  to  write  a  long  answer  to  your  letter,  but  it 
is  far  too  large  and  too  delicate  a  subject  to  write  about.  If 
I  ever  had  an  hour  with  you,  I  could  tell  you  a  great  deal. 
No, — you  do  not  know  facts,  and  know  partially  or  incor- 
rectly those  which  you  know.  You  say  what  you  would  do 
in  my  case,  if  you  were  a  man ;  and  I  should  rather  say  what 
I  would  do  in  my  case,  if  I  were  a  woman, — for  it  was 
St.  Catherine  who  advised  a  Pope,  and  succeeded,  but 
St.  Thomas  of  Canterbury  and  St.  Edmund  tried  and  failed. 
I  am  too  much  of  a  philosopher  too  to  have  the  keen  energy 
necessary  for  the  work  on  which  you  put  me.  Yet  observe, 
Lacordaire,  with  whom  I  so  much  sympathize,  was  a  fiery 
orator  and  a  restless  originator, — yet  he  failed,  as  I  have 
failed. 

'  Look  at  the  whole  course  of  this  Oxford  matter.     The 
Bishops  have  just  brought  out  their  sweeping  decision,  unani- 


CATHOLICS   AT   OXFORD  (1864-1865)  69 

mously.  Unanimously,  because  Propaganda  orders  it.  Who 
directs  Propaganda  ?  What  pains  did  they  (the  Cardinal) 
take  in  England  to  get  opinions?  As  for  myself,  no  one  in 
authority  has  ever  asked  me.  I  never  saw  the  questions  (till 
afterwards) — few  did — and  what  questions — leading  ques- 
tions and  worse — arguments,  not  questions.  The  laity  told 
nothing  about  it.  The  laity  go  to  Propaganda.  Cardinal 
Barnabo  talks  by  the  half  hour,  not  letting  anyone  else 
speak,  and  saying  he  knows  all  about  it  already,  and  wants 
no  information,  for  Mgr.  Talbot  has  told  him  all  about  it. 
What  chance  should  /  have  with  broken  Italian  (they  don't, 
can't,  talk  Latin)?  I  k)wiv  what  chance.  I  had  to  go  to 
him  nine  years  ago, — he  treated  me  in  the  same  way- 
scolded  me  before  he  knew  what  I  had  come  about ;  and  I 
went  on  a  most  grave  matter,  sorely  against  my  will.  No — 
we  are  in  a  transition  time  and  must  wait  patiently,  though 
of  course  the  tempest  will  last  through  our  day.' 

'May  1st,  1865. 

'  I  inclose  a  post  office  order  for  5/.  .  .  .  As  to  the  rest, 
I  wish  it  to  go  in  a  special  kind  of  charity,  viz.  in  the 
instruvienta,  as  I  may  call  them,  and  operative  methods  of 
your  own  good  works, — that  is,  not  in  meat,  and  drink,  and 
physic,  or  clothing  of  the  needy,  but  (if  you  will  not  be 
angry  with  me)  in  your  charitable  cabs,  charitable  umbrellas, 
charitable  boots,  and  all  the  wear  and  tear  of  a  charitable 
person  who,  without  such  wear  and  tear,  cannot  do  her 
charity. 

*  As  to  Catholic  matters,  there  is  nothing  like  the  logic 
of  facts.  This  is  what  I  look  to — it  is  a  sad  consolation  — 
but  Catholics  won't  stand  such  standing  still  for  ever.  And 
then,  when  much  mischief  is  done,  and  more  is  feared,  some- 
thing will  be  attempted  in  high  quarters.  .  .  . 

'  A  great  prelate  (Dr.  Ullathorne)  said  to  me  years  ago, 
when  I  said  that  the  laity  needed  instruction,  guidance, 
tenderness,  consideration,  &c.,  &c. :  "You  do  not  know  them, 
Dr.  N.,  our  laity  arc  a  peaceable  body — they  are  peaceable." 
I  understood  him  to  mean  :  "  They  are  grossly  ignorant  and 
unintellectual,  and  we  need  not  consult,  or  consult  for  them 
at  all."  .  .  .  And  at  Rome  they  treat  them  according  to  the 
tradition  of  the  Middle  Ages,  as,  in  "  Harold  the  Dauntless" 
the  Abbot  of  Durham  treated  Count  Witikind.  Well,  facts 
alone  will  slowly  make  them  recognise  the  fact  of  what  a 
laity  must  be  in  the  19th  century  if  it  is  to  cope  with 
Protestantism.' 


70  LIFE    OF    CARDINAL    NEWMAN 

Further  reflections  of  interest  on  the  Oxford  question  as 
a  whole  and  on  the  prospect  for  the  future  are  contained 
in  the  followinsf  letters  : 


'& 


To  Miss  Holmes. 

«  The  Oratory,  Bm.  :  Feb.  7th,  '6$. 

'  As  to  Oxford  and  Cambridge,  it  is  quite  plain  that 
the  Church  ought  to  have  Schools  (Universities)  of  her  own. 
She  can  in  Ireland — she  can't  in  England,  a  Protestant 
country.  How  are  you  to  prepare  young  Catholics  for 
taking  part  in  life,  in  filling  stations  in  a  Protestant  country 
as  England,  without  going  to  the  English  Universities  ? 
Impossible.  Either  then  refuse  to  let  Catholics  avail  them- 
selves of  these  privileges,  of  going  into  Parliament,  of  taking 
their  seat  in  the  House  of  Lords,  of  becoming  Lawyers, 
Commissioners  etc.  etc.  or  let  them  go  thej-e,  luherc  alone  they 
will  be  able  to  put  themselves  on  a  par  with  Protestants. 
Argument  the  ist. 

'  2.  They  will  get  more  harm  in  London  life  than  at 
Oxford  or  Cambridge.  A  boy  of  19  goes  to  some  London 
office,  with  no  restraint — he  goes  at  that  age  to  Oxford  or 
Cambridge,  and  is  at  least  under  some  restraint. 

'  3.  Why  are  you  not  consistent,  and  forbid  him  to  go 
into  the  Army?  wh}-  don't  you  forbid  him  to  go  to  such  an 
"  Academy "  at  Woolwich  ?  He  may  get  at  Woolwich  as 
much  harm  in  his  faith  and  morals  as  at  the  Universities. 

*  4.  There  are  two  sets  at  Oxford.  What  Fr.  B.  says  of 
the  good  set  being  small,  is  bosh.  At  least  I  have  a  right 
to  know  better  than  he.  What  can  he  know  about  my  means 
of  knowledge  ?  I  was  Tutor  (in  a  very  rowing  College,  and 
was  one  of  those  who  changed  its  character).  I  was  Dean 
of  discipline — I  was  Pro-proctor.  The  good  set  was  not  a 
small  set — tho'  it  varied  in  number  in  different  colleges.' 

To  Mr.  Hope-Scott. 

'April  28th,  1865. 

'  It  boots  not  to  go  through  the  Oxford  matter,  now 
(at  least  for  the  time)  over.  I  believe  the  majority  of  the 
Bishops  were  against  the  decision,  to  which  they  have 
publicly  committed  themselves ;  and  what  is  to  take  the 
place  of  Oxford,  I  know  not.  Our  boys  go  on  well  till  they 
get  near  the  top  of  the  school — but,  when  they  are  once  put 
into  the  fifth  or  sixth  form,  they  languish  and  get  slovenly — 
i.e.  for  want  of  a  sthnulus.     They  have  no  object  before  them. 


CATHOLICS   AT  OXFORD   (1864-1865)  71 

And  then  again,  parents  come  to  me  and  say :  "  What  are 
we  to  do  with  Charlie  and  Richard  ?  Is  he  to  keep  company 
with  the  gamekeeper  on  his  leaving  school  ?  Is  he  to  be 
toadied  by  all  the  idle  fellows  about  the  place  ?  Is  he  to  get 
a  taste  for  low  society  ?  How  can  Oxford  be  worse  than  this  ? 
Is  he  to  have  a  taste  for  anything  beyond  that  for  shooting 
pheasants  ?  Is  he  to  stagnate  with  no  internal  resources,  and 
no  power  of  making  himself  useful  in  life  ?  "  As  to  such 
fellows  being  likely  to  have  their  faith  shaken  at  Oxford,  that 
(at  least)  their  parents  think  an  absurdity,  and  so  do  I.  Of 
course  it  is  otherwise  with  more  intellectual  youths, — though 
at  present  I  am  credibly  informed  there  is  a  singular  reaction 
in  Oxford  in  favour  of  High  Church  principles  ;  and,  though 
I  can  understand  a  Catholic  turning  Liberal,  my  imagination 
fails  as  to  the  attempt  to  turn  him  into  a  Puseyite.' 

With  this  letter  should  be  read  a  sentence  in  another 
written  a  week  earlier  to  St.  John,  which  shows  that,  with 
this  as  with  so  much  else,  his  last  word  was  '  patience.' 
Oxford  might  be  open  to  another  generation  of  Catholics, 
though  he  would  no  longer  be  there  to  guide  them  : 

'  Rednal :  April  2ist,  1865. 

'This  morning  I  have  made  up  my  mind,  as  the  only 
way  of  explaining  the  way  in  which  all  the  Bishops  but  two 
turned  round,  that  the  extinguisher  on  Oxford  was  the  Pope's 
own  act.  If  so,  we  may  at  once  reconcile  ourselves  to  it. 
Another  Pontiff  in  another  generation  may  reverse  it.' 

The  year  1893 — three  years  after  Newman  had  himself 
passed  away — saw  the  realisation,  under  the  Pontificate  of 
Leo  XIII.,  of  the  hope  expressed  in  this  letter. 

The  failure  of  the  Oxford  scheme  was  regarded  by 
Newman  as  final  so  far  as  his  own  lifetime  went.  And  he 
sold  the  ground  he  had  bought.  The  disappointment  did 
not,  however,  crush  Newman  as  earlier  ones  had  done.  His 
habit  of  patience  had  grown  on  him,  and  seems  to  have 
given  him  more  of  strength  and  calmness.  '  The  obedient 
man  shall  speak  of  victory.'  Moreover  he  had  seen  signs, 
in  the  strong  support  he  now  had  among  Catholics,  that  his 
own  views  might  one  day  prevail.  And  the  success  of  the 
'  Apologia  '  was  an  accomplished  fact. 


72  LIFE    OF    CARDINAL    NEWMAN 

In  the  first  half  of  1865  came  a  lull  in  the  acute  dis- 
cussions of  the  hour.  In  February  1865  Cardinal  Wiseman 
passed  away,  and  it  was  uncertain  what  ecclesiastical  powers 
would  come  to  the  front  in  England.  An  entry  in  the 
journal  records  Newman's  feelings  at  this  time : 

'  February  22nd,  1865. 

'  I  have  just  now  looked  over  what  I  wrote  on  January  2  ist 
1863.     My  position  of  mind  now  is  so  different  from  what  it 
was  then,  that  it  would  require  many  words  to  bring  it  out. 
First,  I   have  got  hardened  against  the  opposition  made  to 
me,  and  have  not  the  soreness  at  my  ill-treatment  on  the  part 
of  certain  influential  Catholics  which   I  had  then, — and  this 
simply  from  the  natural  effect  of  time — just  as  I  do  not  feel 
that  anxiety  which  I  once  had  that  we  have  no  novices.      I 
don't  know  that  this  recklessness  is  a  better  state  of  mind 
than  that  anxiety.     Every  year  I  feel  less  and  less  anxiety 
to  please  Propaganda,  from  a  feeling  that  they  cannot  under- 
stand England.     Next,  the  two  chief  persons  whom  I  felt  to 
be  unjust  to  me  are  gone, — the  Cardinal  and  Faber.     Their 
place  has  been  taken  by  Manning  and  Ward  ;  but  somehow, 
from  my  never  having  been  brought  as  closely  into  contact 
with  either  of  them  as  with  the  Cardinal  and  Faber,  I  have 
not  that  sense  of  their  cruelty  which  I  felt  so  much  as  regards 
the  two  last  mentioned.     Thirdly,  in    the  last  year  a  most 
wonderful  deliverance  has  been  wrought  in  my  favour,  by  the 
controversy  of  which  the  upshot  was  my  "  Apologia."     It  has 
been  marvellously  blest,  for,  while  I  have  regained,  or  rather 
gained,  the  favour  of  Protestants,   I   have  received   the  ap- 
probation, in  formal  Addresses,  of  good  part  of  the  [Catholic] 
clerical  body.     They  have  been  highly  pleased  with  me,  as 
doing  them  a  service,  and  I  stand  with  them  as  I  never  did 
before.     Then  again,  it  has  pleased  Protestants,  and  of  all 
parties,  as  much  or  more.     When  I  wrote  those  sharp  letters, 
as  I  did  very  deliberately,  in  June  1862,  in  consequence  of  the 
reports  circulated  to  the  effect  that  I  was  turning  Protestant, 
I  at  once  brought  myself  down  to  my  lowest  point  as  regards 
popularity,  yet,  by  the  very  force  of  my  descent,  I  prepared 
the  way  for  a  rebound.      It  was   my  lowest  point,  yet  the 
turning  point.     When   A.B.  wrote   to  remonstrate  with  me 
on  the  part  of  my  Protestant  friends,   I  answered  him   by 
showing  how  unkindly  they  had  treated  me  for  17  years, — so 
much    so    that    they    had    no    right    to    remonstrate.     This 
touched     Keble.       Moreover,    it    happened    just    then    that, 
independent  of  this,  Copeland,  having  met  me  accidentally  in 


CATHOLICS  AT   OXFORD    (1864-1865)  73 

London,  came  to  see  us  here,  and  he  spread  such  a  kind 
report  of  me  that  Keble  wrote  to  me,  Rogers  visited  me 
(August  30th,  1863)  and  Church  proposed  to  do  so. 
Williams  too  wished  to  come  and  see  me, —  but  Jie  had  never 
lost  sight  of  me.  The  kind  feeling  was  growing,  when 
(Copeland  accidentally  being  here)  I  began  the  Kingsley 
controversy,  the  effect  of  which  I  need  not  enlarge  on.  I 
have  pleasant  proofs  of  it  every  day.  And  thus  I  am  in  a 
totally  different  position  now  to  what  I  was  in  January  1863. 
And  my  temptation  at  this  moment  is,  to  value  the  praise  of 
men  too  highly,  especially  of  Protestants — and  to  lose  some 
portion  of  that  sensitiveness  towards  God's  praise  which  is  so 
elementary  a  duty. 

'  On  all  these  accounts,  though  I  still  feel  keenly  the  way 

in  which  I  am  kept  doing  nothing,  I  am  not  so  much  pained 

at  it, — both  because  by  means  of  my  "  Apologia  "  I  am  (as  I 

feel)  indirectly  doing  a  work,  and  because  its  success  has  put 

me  in  spirits  to  look  out  for  other  means   of  doing  good, 

whether  Propaganda  cares  about  it  or  no.     Yet  still  it  is  very 

singular  that  the  same  effective  opposition  to  me  does  go  on, 

thwarting  my  attempts  to  act,  and  what  is  very  singular,  also 

"  avulso  uno  non   deficit   alter."     Faber   being  taken   away, 

Ward  and  Manning  take  his  place.     Through  them,  especially 

Manning,  acting  on  the  poor  Cardinal  (who  is  to  be  buried 

to-morrow),  the   Oxford   scheme  has    been   for  the    present 

thwarted — for    me   probably   for    good — and    this    morning 

I  have  been  signing  the  agreement  by  which  I  shall  sell  my 

land  to  the  University.     Bellasis  told  me  that,  from  what  he 

saw  at  Rome,  he  felt  that  Manning  was  more  set  against  my 

going  to  Oxford,  than   merely  against  Catholic  youths  going 

there.    And  now  I  am  thrown  back  again  on  my  do-nothing  life 

here — how  marvellous  !  yet,  as  I  have  drawn  out  above,  from 

habit,  from  recklessness,  and  from  my  late  success,  my  feeling 

of  despondency  and  irritation  seems  to  have  gone.' 

The  '  do-nothing  life,'  as  he  termed  it,  meant  occupation 
with  slight  literary  tasks — among  them  the  editing  of  an 
expurgated  edition  of  Terence's  'Phormio'  for  the  Edgbaston 
boys  to  act.  His  leisure  also  led  to  more  frequent  correspon- 
dence with  old  friends.  He  often  wrote  to  R.  W.  Church 
and  Rogers.  Rogers  pressed  him  to  come  on  a  visit  and 
meet  Church,  but  Newman  could  not  at  once  bring  him- 
self to  make  the  effort.  In  writing  to  Rogers  he  based  his 
refusal  on  the  trials  and  troubles  of  advancing  life,  but  in  a 
subsequent  letter  to  Church  we  see  a  stronger  reason  at  work. 


74  LIFE    OF    CARDINAL    NEWMAN 

To  Sir  Frederick  Rogers. 

•  The  Oratory,  Birm.  :  Dec.  20,  1864. 

*  Your  offer  is  very  tempting.  I  should  like  to  be  with  you 
and  Lady  Rogers,  I  should  like  to  meet  Church — and,  not 
the  least  pleasure  would  be  to  see  your  Mother  and  Sisters. 
But  I  am  an  old  man,  oppressed  with  reasonable  and  un- 
reasonable difficulties,  in  confronting  such  a  proposition. 
How  do  I  know  but  I  shall  have  a  cold,  which  will  prostrate 
me  ?  Five  years  ago  I  had  a  slight  attack  in  the  bronchia — 
and,  when  it  has  once  occurred,  it  never  quite  goes  ;  and  if  I 
had  ever  so  little  return  of  it,  I  should  have  great  difficulty  in 
shaking  it  off.  I  go  on  expecting  it  all  through  the  winter, 
and  never  get  through  without  a  touch,  sooner  or  later.  I 
begin  to  understand  old  Routh's  excessive  care  of  himself ; 
for  if  I  neglected  myself  an  hour  or  two  I  might  be  in  for  it. 
Then  again  in  other  ways,  though  my  health  is  ordinarily 
good,  nay  tough,  I  am  prostrated  for  half  a  day  ;  after  a  quiet 
evening  and  good  night  I  am  right  again.  Then  I  am  a  sort 
of  savage  who  has  lost  manners.  Except  once  at  Hope- 
Scott's,  and  once  at  Henry  Bowden's,  and  a  day  or  two  at 
W.  Wilberforce's  last  year,  I  have  not  been  in  a  friend's  house 
these  20  years — and  I  should  not  know  how  to  behave.  If 
I  made  an  engagement  with  you,  I  should  go  on  fidgetting 
myself  till  the  time  comes,  lest  I  should  be  unable  to  keep  it 
— and  if  I  don't  make  one,  then  I  am  sure  not  to  go  to  you. 
And  thus  you  have  the  measure  of  me.' 

To  R.  W.  Church. 

•The  Oratory,  Bm.  :  Dec.  21/64. 

'  I  wrote  to  Rogers  yesterday,  in  more  than  doubt  whether 
I  could  accept  his  offer.  Of  course  I  should  like  extremely 
to  meet  whether  you  or  him,  and  much  more  both  of  you 
together — but  I  am  an  old  man — and  subject  to  colds  and 
slight  ailments  which  make  me  slow  in  committing  myself  to 
engagements.  And  then  a  profound  melancholy  might  come 
on  me  to  find  myself  in  the  presence  of  friends  so  dear  to  me, 
and  so  divided  from  me.  And  therefore,  like  a  coward,  I 
have  declined.     I  could  bear  one,  better  than  two. 

'  I  want  very  much  to  see  you,  and  think  it  most  kind  in 
you  to  think  of  going  the  long  way  whether  to  London  or  to 
Birmingham  for  my  sake — but  here  again  I  should  prefer  the 
summer  to  the  winter  for  your  visit,  for  Brummagem  is  a 
dirty,  unattractive  place — and  we  have  no  indoor  amuse- 
ments. In  the  summer  I  should  ask  you  to  go  over  to  our 
cottage  at  Rednal — but  in  winter,  unless  I  went  out  with  you 


CATHOLICS   AT   OXFORD   (1864-1865)  75 

shooting,  or  mounted  you  for  the  hunt,  or  went  sliding  or 
skating  with  you,  what  could  I  do  ?  so  that  I  have  the  same 
reluctance  to  ask  you  in  winter,  as  you  seem  to  have  in  asking 
me  in  the  same  season  to  Whatley.' 

Newman  did  pay  a  visit  on  April  26,  1865,  to  another  old 
friend,  Isaac  Williams.  '  I  had  not  seen  him  for  twenty-two 
years,'  he  wrote  to  R.  W.  Church.  '  Of  course  I  did  not  know 
him  at  all,  as  I  daresay  you  would  not  know  me.  Pattison 
did  not  know  me  a  year  or  two  ago,  though  I  knew  him.  If 
all  is  well  I  shall  come  and  see  you  some  time  or  other, 
and  take  Williams  again  on  my  way.'  A  week  later  Isaac 
Williams  was  dead. 

In  the  summer  Church  and  Rogers  combined  to  give 
Newman  a  violin.  The  prospect  of  its  arrival  greatly  excited 
Newman  and  made  him  almost  scrupulous. 

'  I  only  fear,'  he  writes  to  Rogers  on  June  25,  'that  I  may 
give  time  to  it  more  than  I  ought  to  spare.  I  could  find 
solace  in  music  from  week  to  week's  end.  It  will  be  curious, 
if  I  get  a  qualm  of  conscience  for  indulging  in  it,  and,  as  a  set 
off,  write  a  book.  I  declare  I  think  it  is  more  likely  to  [make 
me]  do  so  than  anything  else — I  am  so  lazy.  It  is  likely 
that  a  note  I  have  written  upon  Liberalism  in  my  2nd 
Edition  of  the  "Apologia"  will  bring  criticisms  on  me,  which  I 
ought  to  answer.  Now  I  am  so  desperately  lazy  that  I  shall 
not  be  able  to  get  myself  to  do  so  ;  and  then  it  strikes  me 
that,  in  penance  for  the  violin,  I  suddenly  may  rush  into 
work  in  a  fit  of  contrition.' 

The  instrument  arrived  early  in  July,  and  Newman  was 
fairly  overcome  by  the  music  he  loved  so  intensely,  and  which 
for  many  years  he  had  set  aside  lest  it  should  interfere  with 
the  graver  duties  of  life.^  He  writes  to  Dean  Church  his 
grateful  thanks  on  July  1 1 

'  My  dear  Church, —  I  have  delayed  thanking  you  for  your 
great  kindness  in  uniting  with  Rogers  in  giving  me  a  fiddle, 
till  I  could  report  upon  the  fiddle  itself  The  Warehouse 
sent  me  three  to  choose  out  of — and  I  chose  with  trepidation, 
as  fearing  I  was  hardly  up  to  choosing  well.  And  then  my 
fingers  have  been  in  such  a  state,  as  being  cut  by  the  strings, 

'  He  told  my  father  that  he  did  not  believe  he  had  really  gained  any  benefit 
from  this  self-denial.  Music  was  so  great  a  joy  that  it  intensified  his  powers  of 
work. 


76  LIFE   OF   CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

that  up  to  Saturday  last  I  had  sticking  plaster  upon  their 
ends — and  therefore  was  in  no  condition  to  bring  out  a 
good  tune  from  the  strings  and  so  to  return  good  for  evil. 
But  on  Saturday  I  had  a  good  bout  at  Beethoven's  Ouartetts 
— which  I  used  to  play  with  poor  Blanco  White — and  thought 
them  more  exquisite  than  ever — so  that  I  was  obliged  to  lay 
down  the  instrument  and  literally  cry  out  with  delight.  How- 
ever, what  is  more  to  the  point,  I  was  able  to  ascertain  that  I 
had  got  a  very  beautiful  fiddle — such  as  I  never  had  before. 
Think  of  my  not  having  a  good  one  till  I  was  between  sixty 
and  seventy — and  beginning  to  learn  it  when  I  was  ten  ! 
However,  I  really  think  it  will  add  to  my  power  of  working, 
and  the  length  of  my  life.  I  never  wrote  more  than  when  I 
played  the  fiddle.  I  always  sleep  better  after  music.  There 
must  be  some  electric  current  passing  from  the  strings 
through  the  fingers  into  the  brain  and  down  the  spinal 
marrow.     Perhaps  thought  is  music. 

'  I  hope  to  send  you  the  "  Phormio  "  almost  at  once. 

'  Ever  yrs.  affly., 

*  John  H.  Newman.' 

A  more  serious  occupation  of  this  time  was  the  writing 
of  the  '  Dream  of  Gerontius.'  Newman  had,  in  the  middle  of 
the  Kingsley  controversy,  been  seized  with  a  very  vivid 
apprehension  of  immediately  impending  death,  apparently 
derived  from  a  medical  opinion — so  vivid  as  to  lead  him  to 
write  the  following  memorandum  headed,  'written  in  pro- 
spect of  death,'  and  dated  Passion  Sunday,  1864,  7  o'clock 
A.M.  : 

'  I  write  in  the  direct  view  of  death  as  in  prospect.  No  one 
in  the  house,  I  suppose,  suspects  anything  of  the  kind.  Nor 
anyone  anywhere,  unless  it  be  the  medical  men. 

'  I  write  at  once-  -because,  on  my  own  feelings  of  mind 
and  body,  it  is  as  if  nothing  at  all  were  the  matter  with  me, 
just  now ;  but  because  I  do  not  know  how  long  this  perfect 
possession  of  my  sensible  and  available  health  and  strength 
may  last. 

'  I  die  in  the  faith  of  the  One  Holy  Catholic  Apostolic 
Church.  I  trust  I  shall  die  prepared  and  protected  by  her 
Sacraments,  which  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ  has  committed  to 
her,  and  in  that  communion  of  Saints  which  He  inaugurated 
when  He  ascended  on  high,  and  which  will  have  no  end.  I 
hope  to  die  in  that  Church  which  Our  Lord  founded  on  Peter, 
and  which  will  continue  till  His  second  coming. 


CATHOLICS    AT    OXFORD    (1864-1865)  77 

'  I  commit  my  soul  and  body  to  the  Most  Holy  Trinity, 
and  to  the  merits  and  grace  of  our  Lord  Jesus,  God  Incar- 
nate, to  the  intercession  and  compassion  of  our  dear  Mother 
Mary ;  to  St.  Joseph  ;  and  St.  Philip  Neri,  my  father,  the 
father  of  an  unworthy  son  ;  to  St.  John  the  Evangelist ;  St. 
John  the  Baptist ;  St.  Henry ;  St.  Athanasius,  and  St.  Gregory 
Nazianzen  ;  to  St.  Chrysostom,  and  St.  Ambrose. 

'  Also  to  St.  Peter,  St.  Gregory  I.  and  St.  Leo.  Also  to 
the  great  Apostle,  St.  Paul. 

'  Also  to  my  tender  Guardian  Angel,  and  to  all  Angels, 
and  to  all  Saints. 

'  And  I  pray  to  God  to  bring  us  all  together  again  in 
heaven,  under  the  feet  of  the  Saints.  And,  after  the  pattern 
of  Him,  who  seeks  so  diligently  for  those  who  are  astray,  I 
would  ask  Him  especially  to  have  mercy  on  those  who  are 
external  to  the  True  Fold,  and  to  bring  them  into  it  before 
they  die. 

'  J.  H.  N.' 

A  letter  to  Father  Coleridge  written  later  in  the  same 
year  ^  shows  him  still  dwelling  on  the  thought  of  his  own 
death,  and  suggests  that  the  fear  of  paralysis  which  he 
had  expressed  in  a  letter  to  W.  G.  Ward  seven  years  earlier,, 
had  come  upon  him  once  again  on  receiving  the  intelligence 
that  Keble  had  had  a  stroke. 

'  Paralysis,'  he  writes,  '  has  this  of  awfulness,  that  it  is- 
so  sudden.  I  wonder,  when  those  anticipations  came  on 
Keble  in  past  time,  whether  they  were  founded  on  symptoms^ 
or  antecedent  probability  ;  for  I  have  long  feared  paralysis 
myself.  I  have  asked  medical  men,  and  they  have  been 
unable  to  assign  any  necessary  premonitory  symptoms  ;  na)-, 
the  very  vigorousness  and  self-possession  (as  they  seem)  of 
mind  and  body,  which  ought  to  argue  health,  are  often  the 
proper  precursors  of  an  attack.  This  makes  one  suspicious 
of  one's  own  freedom  from  ailments.  Whately  died  of 
paralysis — so  did  Walter  Scott — so  (I  think)  Southey — and, 
though  I  cannot  recollect,  I  observe  the  like  in  other  cases 
of  literary  men.  Was  not  Swift's  end  of  that  nature  .-*  I 
wonder,  in  old  times,  what  people  died  of.  We  read,  "  After 
this,  it  was  told  Joseph  that  his  father  was  sick."  "  And  the 
days  of  David  drew  nigh  that  he  should  die."  What  were 
they  sick — what  did  they  die  of?  And  so  of  the  great 
Fathers.  St.  Athanasius  died  past  70 — was  his  a  paralytic 
seizure  ?     We  cannot  imitate  the  martyrs  in  their  deaths,  but 

'  On  December  30,   1864, 


78  LIFE    OF    CARDINAL    NEWMAN 

I  sometimes  feel  it  would  be  a  comfort  if  we  could  associate 
ourselves  with  the  great  Confessor  Saints  in  their  illness  and 
decline.  Pope  St.  Gregory  had  the  gout.  St.  Basil  had  a 
liver  complaint,  but  St.  Gregory  Nazianzen  ?  St.  Ambrose  ? 
St.  Augustine  and  St.  Martin  died  of  fevers  proper  to  old 
age.     But  my  paper  is  out.' 

Now,  after  the  abandonment  of  the  Oxford  scheme  gave 
him  leisure  for  it,  he  set  down  in  dramatic  form  the  vision  of 
a  Christian's  death  on  which  his  imagination  had  been  dwell- 
ing. The  writing  of  it  was  a  sudden  inspiration,  and  his 
work  was  begun  in  January  and  completed  in  February 
1865.  '  On  the  17th  of  January  last,'  he  writes  to  Mr.  Allies 
in  October,  '  it  came  into  my  head  to  write  it,  I  really  can't 
tell  how.  And  I  wrote  on  till  it  was  finished  on  small  bits  of 
paper,  and  I  could  no  more  write  anything  else  by  willing  it 
than  I  could  fly.'  To  another  correspondent '  also,  who  was 
fascinated  by  the  Dream,  and  longed  to  have  the  picture  it 
gave  still  further  filled  in,  he  wrote  : 

'You  do  me  too  much  honour  if  you  think  I  am  to  see  in 
a  dream  everything  that  is  to  be  seen  in  the  subject  dreamed 
about.  I  have  said  what  I  saw.  Various  spiritual  writers 
see  various  aspects  of  it  ;  and  under  their  protection  and 
pattern  I  have  set  down  the  dream  as  it  came  before  the 
sleeper.  It  is  not  my  fault  if  the  sleeper  did  not  dream  more. 
Perhaps  something  woke  him.  Dreams  are  generally  frag- 
mentary.    I  have  nothing  more  to  tell.' 

The  poem  appeared  in  the  Jesuit  periodical,  the  Month, 
then  edited  by  his  friend.  Father  Coleridge,  in  the  numbers 
for  April  and  May.  When  it  was  republished  in  November 
it  was  dedicated  to  the  memory  of  Father  Joseph  Gordon  in 
the  following  words,  dated  on  All  Souls'  Day : 

'  Fratri  desideratissimo 
Joanni  Joseph  Gordon, 
Oratorii  S.P.N.  Presbytero 
Cujus  animam  in  refrigerio. 


T.  H.  N.' 


'  The  Rev.  John  Telford,  priest  at  Ryde. 


CHAPTER   XXII 

A   NEW   ARCHBISHOP    ( 1 865- 1 866) 

The  unbending  opposition  of   Manning   and  Ward  to  the 
Oxford  scheme  was  marked,  no  doubt,  by  the  special  charac- 
teristics of  these  two    men.       But  the  general   policy  they 
enforced  was  that  of  Rome.     The  opposition  to  mixed  edu- 
cation was,  as  we  have  already  seen,  a  part  of  the  general 
opposition  of  Rome  to  anything  that  might  infect  Catholics 
with    the    principles    and    maxims    of    a    civilisation    which 
threatened    to    become    more     and    more    hostile    to    the 
Church's  claims.     Pius  IX.  had  for  years  been  emphasising 
and    reprobating   the    divorce    of   modern  civilisation    from 
the    Catholic    Church,  in  a  series  of  public  utterances.     He 
was  the  first   Pope  who  reigned  after  GalHcanism  was  prac- 
tically   defunct,  and    the   spirit  represented  in  De  Maistre's 
great     work     '  Du      Pape  '     had     triumphed.       In     former 
Pontificates    an    Encyclical    letter    had    been    a    rare    event 
called  for  by  some  exceptional  crisis.     But  under  Pius   IX. 
came  a  new  departure,  which  has  since  been  pursued  by  his 
successors,   of  issuing  frequent    Allocutions    and   Encyclical 
letters  on  questions  of  the  day.   Louis  Veuillot  and  his  friends 
had    long    pressed    for  a  yet  more  emphatic    condemnation 
of  the  offences  of  the  modern  world,  and  in  December  1864 
Pius  IX.  issued   the  famous  '  Syllabus  '  and  the  Encyclical 
Quanta  Cura.    The  Quanta  Cura  renewed  the  Papal  protests 
of  fifteen  years.     The  Syllabus  Erroruvi  was   a  list  of  the 
propositions  condemned  as  erroneous  in  earlier  Encyclicals 
and  Allocutions.    The  fresh  emphasis  given  to  the  Papal  pro- 
tests by  their  collection  and  republication  and  the  vehement 
tone  of  the  Encyclical  created  a  great  sensation.      There  was 
an  outcry   in   England,  and    the   Holy   Father  was  said   to 
have  declared  war  against  modern  civilisation.      The  more 


8o  LIFE  OF  CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

moderate  Catholics,  like  Bishop   Dupanloup,    regretted    the 
appearance  of  the  Syllabus  Errorum}    They  held  that  its 
general  purport  was  sure  to  be  interpreted  by  the  public  as 
being  in  accord  with  the  views  of  the  extreme  party  which 
had    pressed    for    its    issue.      Dupanloup   published   a    com- 
ment on  its  text,  in  which  he  contended  that  interpretation 
according  to  the  rules  of  technical    theology  would   reduce 
the  scope  of  its  condemnations  to  little  or   nothing  more 
than  a  statement  of  Christian  principles    in    the    face  of  a 
non-Christian  civilisation.     Nevertheless  it  was  the  party  of 
Louis  Veuillot  whose  interpretation  was,  in  fact — as  Dupan- 
loup had  feared  beforehand— regarded  by  the  world  at  large 
as  the  authoritative  one  ;  and  people  quoted  the  '  Syllabus ' 
as  ruling  to  be  unorthodox  the  aims  and  views  of '  Liberal ' 
Catholics — a  term  which  had  been  applied  to  such  devoted 
sons  of  the  Church  as  Montalcmbert  and  Lacordaire  as  well 
as  to  free  lances  like  Lord  Acton   and  Professor  Friedrich. 
For  the   Univers  and  the  Monde  all  Liberal  Catholics  had 
one  head,  and  the  Encyclical  cut  it  off.     '  Every  Liberal,'  we 
read  in  the  Monde  of  January    lo,    1865,  'falls  necessarily 
under  the  reprobation  of  the  Encyclical.     In  vain  is  equivo- 
cation attempted  by  distinguishing  the  true  Liberal  and  the 
false  Liberal.'     Newman  had  from  the  first,  as  we  have  seen, 
largely  sympathised  with    the    policy  of   moderate   Liberal 
Catholics    (so   called)    like    Lacordaire    and    Montalembert. 
And  he  shared  their  anxiety  as  to  the  effect  of  the  'Syllabus' 
on  the  public  mind,  especially  in   England.      He  of  course 
received  the  Encyclical  with  the  submission  due  to  all  that 
came  from  the  Holy  See  ;  but  his  general  feeling  as  to  its 
effect  on  the  position  of  English  Catholics  is  sufficiently  ap- 
parent in  the  following  letter  to  Father  Ambrose  St.  John, 
who  was  staying  at  Oxford  soon  after  its  publication. 

'  I  am  glad  you  are  seeing  the  Puseyites.  I  suppose  they 
will  be  asking  you  questions  about  the  Encyclical.  There 
are  some  very  curious  peculiarities  about  it,  which  make  it 
difficult  to  speak  about  it,  till  one  hears  what  theologians  say. 
Condemned  propositions  are  (so  far  as  I  know,  or  as  Henry 
or  Stanislas  know),  propositions  taken  out  of  some  book,  the 
statements  "  libri  cujusdam  auctoris."      These  are  not  such, 

*  See  infra,  p.  loi. 


I 
o 


I- 


o 

cr 

CQ 
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LLl 

I 


A   NEW   ARCHBISHOP    (1865-1866)  81 

nor  do  they  pretend  to  be, — they  are  abstract  propositions. 
Again,  the  Pope  in  condemning  propositions  condemns  the 
books  or  statements  of  Catholics, — not  of  heathen  or  un- 
baptized,  for  what  has  he  to  do  in  judging  "those  that  are 
without"?  Now  these  propositions  are  mostly  the  pro- 
positions of  "  AcathoHci."  Moreover,  it  is  rather  a  Syllabus 
of  passages  from  his  former  allocutions,  &c.,  than  a  Syllabus 
of  erroneous  utterances.  And  accordingly  he  does  not  affix 
the  epithets,  "  haeresi  proximae,  scandalosae,  &c."  but  merely 
heads  the  list  as  a  "  Syllabus  of  errors."  Therefore  it  is 
difficult  to  know  what  lie  means  by  his  condemnation.  The 
words  "  myth,"  "  non-interference,"  "  progress,"  "  toleration," 
"new  civilisation,"  are  undefined.  If  taken  from  a  book,  the 
book  interprets  them,  but  what  interpretation  is  there  of 
popular  slang  terms  ?  "  Progress,"  e.g.,  is  a  slang  term.  Now 
you  must  not  say  all  this  to  your  good  friends,  but  I  think 
you  will  like  to  know  what  seems  to  be  the  state  of  the  case. 
First,  so  much  they  ought  to  know,  that  we  are  bound  to 
receive  what  the  Pope  says,  and  not  to  speak  about  it. 
Secondly,  there  is  little  that  he  says  but  would  have  been 
said  by  all  high  churchmen  thirty  years  ago.  or  by  ih^  Record 
or  by  Keble  now.  These  two  points  your  friends  ought  to 
take  and  digest.  For  the  rest,  all  I  can  say  {entre  nous) 
is  that  the  advisers  of  the  Holy  Father  seem  determined  to 
make  our  position  in  England  as  difficult  as  ever  they  can. 
I  see  tJiis  issue  of  the  Encyclical, — others  I  am  not  in  a 
position  to  see.  If,  in  addition  to  this,  the  matter  and  form 
of  it  are  unprecedented,  I  do  not  know  how  we  can  rejoice  in 
its  publication.' 

The  extreme  party  took  action  at  this  time  in  another 
matter  besides  the  *  Syllabus '  and  the  Oxford  question. 
The  Association  for  the  Promotion  of  the  Unity  of  Christen- 
dom had  been  vigorously  denounced  in  Rome  by  Faber 
and  by  Manning  and  Ward,  and  was  condemned  by  the 
Holy  Office  in  a  letter  '  to  the  English  Bishops '  in  the 
autumn  of  1864.  Catholics  were  forbidden  to  belong  to  the 
Association.  Manning  held  that  the  efforts  of  the  society 
discouraged  conversions  to  the  Catholic  Church. 

Newman  had  declined  to  join  the  A.P.U.C.  (as  it  was 
called),  but  other  Catholics,  while  making  clear  their  rejection 
of  the  Anglican  theory  of  '  three  branches,'  had  given  their 
names  to  it.  And  Newman  himself  deplored  the  spirit  that 
pressed  for  extreme  measures  against  it. 

VOL.  II.  G 


82  LIFE   OF  CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

'  I  cannot  help,'  he  wrote  to  Father  Coleridge,  '  feeling 
sorrow  at  the  blow  struck  by  the  Holy  Office  at  the  members 
of  the  A.P.U.C.  .  .  .  and  now  if  they  are  led  to  suppose  that 
all  Catholics  hold  with  Ward  and  Faber,  we  shall  be  in  a 
melancholy  way  to  seconding  that  blow.' 

To  Mr.  Ambrose  Phillipps  de  Lisle  he  wrote  in  the  same 
strain  : 

'February  I3tb,  1865. 

'  I  feel  quite  as  you  do  on  the  Oxford  question  and  the 
other  questions  you  introduce,  but  it  is  one's  duty  to  submit. 
For  myself,  I  did  not  see  my  way  to  belong  to  the  Union 
Association — but  I  think  its  members  have  been  treated 
cruelly.  As  to  the  Encyclical,  without  looking  at  it 
doctrinally,  it  is  but  stating  a  fact  to  say  that  it  is  a  heavy 
blow  and  a  great  discouragement  to  us  in  England.  There 
must  be  a  re-action  sooner  or  later — and  we  must  pray  God 
to  bring  it  about  in  His  good  time,  and  meanwhile  to  give  us 
patience.' 

Newman's  calm  estimate  of  the  Encyclical  and  '  Syllabus  ' 
was  given  ten  years  later  in  his  letter  to  the  Duke  of 
Norfolk  in  which  he  defended  these  documents  against 
Mr.  Gladstone's  attacks.  At  that  time  they  could  be  read  in 
the  light  of  their  own  text  and  of  the  comments  of  the  theo- 
logical school  in  the  intervening  period.  But  at  the  moment 
when  the  above  letters  were  penned  the  two  documents  came 
upon  the  world  together  with  the  exaggerated  interpretations 
of  militant  Catholic  journalists.  They  came  to  the  world, 
he  complained,  through  newspapers  which  claimed  them  as 
party  utterances.  His  devotion  to  Pius  IX.  never  wavered 
nor  his  sympathy  with  him  in  the  outrages  of  which  he  was 
the  object.  But,  like  Dupanloup  and  many  others,  Newman 
seems  to  have  regretted  an  event  which  gave  the  opportunity 
to  Monsieur  Vcuillot  and  his  friends  of  urging  extreme  views 
in  the  Pope's  name.  It  was  hard  to  contradict  these  men 
publicly  without  seeming,  to  unthinking  Catholics,  to  take  up 
a  lower  level  of  loyalty  than  theirs,  to  show  a  less  intense 
aversion  to  the  enemies  of  the  Church. 

The  uncompromising  spirit  which  Newman  deplored  was 
nowhere  more  visible  than  in  W.  G.  Ward's  comments  in 
the  Diiblin  Review,  on  the  utterances  of  Pius  IX.,  his 
Allocutions,  Briefs,  and  Encyclical  letters.     Ward  remarked 


A    NEW   ARCHBISHOP   (1865-1866)  83 

on  their  unprecedented  frequency,  and  treated  them  as  in 
consequence  giving  to  Catholics  of  the  nineteenth  century 
an  unprecedented  degree  of  infalHble  guidance.  He  in- 
terpreted the  documents  in  exactly  the  opposite  spirit  to 
Dupanloup,  insisting  that  they  condemned  the  views  of 
Montalembert  and  his  friends.  His  articles  had  consider- 
able influence.  The  fashion  spread  of  regarding  as  'disloyal ' 
those  Catholics  who  were  alive  to  the  practical  or  intel- 
lectual difficulties  attaching  to  extreme  views.  The  Dublin 
Reviezu,  coining  a  word,  nicknamed  them  '  minimisers.' 

The  character  and  frequency  of  the  utterances  of  Pius  IX. 
being  to  some  extent  a  new  phenomenon,  theologians  were 
not  at  once  prepared  to  estimate  their  exact  authority.  Even 
W.  G.  Ward,  who  at  first  took  the  most  extreme  view, 
eventually  admitted  in  the  course  of  controversy  that  the 
Pontiff  spoke  at  times,  in  his  official  utterances  on  doctrine, 
not  as  Doctor  Universalis  or  infallibly,  but  as  Gubernator  doc- 
trinalis  with  no  claim  to  infallibility.  But  in  1864  he  was 
making  unqualified  statements  which  distressed  Newman. 
Ward  boldly  maintained  '  that  Pius  IX.  spoke  infallibly 
far  oftener  than  previous  Pontiffs,  and  he  rejoiced  at  the  fact. 
He  pressed  every  doctrinal  instruction,  contained  in  a  fresh 
Encyclical,  as  binding  on  the  conscience  of  every  Catholic 
under  pain  of  mortal  sin.  Newman  considered  Ward's  posi- 
tion to  be  paradoxical,  and  was  anxious  to  secure  careful 
and  theological  treatment  of  the  situation. 

Half  a    year    after    the    publication    of   the     'Syllabus,' 

W.    G.  Ward  wrote  to  the    Weekly  Register  declaring  that 

the    Encyclical    and    '  Syllabus '  were  beyond    question  the 

Church's    infallible    utterances.     Newman    held   that  such  a 

statement  if  it  passed  unchallenged  would  drive  many  of  those 

who  were  living  in  the  world   and  realised    the    difficulties 

of  the  situation,  towards  Liberalism  and  freethought.     He 

knew  that  Ward's  opinion  was  not  that  of  the  distinguished 

theologian    Father   O'Reilly,   with   whom    he    had   formerly 

discussed  the  question,  and   he  wrote  to  P'ather  Bittleston, 

who  was  in   Ireland,  proposing  to  publish  a  letter,  with  the 

approval  of  Father  O'Reilly,  expressing  the  opposite  opinion 

to  Ward's  : 

'    Doctrinal  Authority ^  p.  507. 

G  2 


84  LIFE  OF  CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

*  Private.  The  Oratory,  Bir*"""  :  July  29th,  65. 

'  My  dear  Henry, —  I  wish  you  would  look  at  Ward's  letter 
in  the  Register  o{  'dens  day.  I  am  much  tempted,  almost  as  a 
matter  of  duty,  to  write  to  the  editor  as  follows  : 

' "  Sir, — A  sentence  in  a  letter  inserted  in  your  paper 
of  last  Saturday  (Saturday  29th)  runs  thus  :  '  The  recent 
Encyclical  and  Syllabus  are,  beyond  question,  the  Church's 
infallible  utterance.'  I  beg  to  say  that  I  do  not  subscribe  to 
this  proposition.  '  "  JOHN  H.  NEWMAN." 

*  My  reason  is,  charity  to  a  number  of  persons,  chiefly 
laymen,  whom  such  doctrine  will  hurry  in  the  direction  of 
Arnold.'     There  must  be  a  stop  put  to  such  extravagances, 

'  My  difficulty  is,  lest  to  do  so,  should  bring  some  blow  on 
the  Oratory. 

'  I  write  to  you,  however,  principally  for  this  :  viz.  I  must 
have  a  good  theological  opinion  on  my  side,  and  whom  am  I 
to  consult?  It  strikes  Ambrose  that  Stanislas"  is  the  best 
person — but  then,  if  he  knows  it  is  /  who  ask,  he  will  not  give 
me  an  unbiassed  judgment. 

'So  I  want  you  to  write  to  him  calling  his  attention  to  the 
letter — and  asking  him  whether  it  would  be  theologically  safe 
for  you  or  some  other  priest  to  put  the  above  letter  into  the 
paper.  If  he  could  be  got  to  get  Fr.  O'Reilly's  opinion  in 
confidence  (not  on  the  doctrine,  but  on  the  Catholic's  liberty 
of  denying  Ward's  proposition  as  it  stands)  so  much  the 
better,  e.g.  if  Fr.  O'Reilly  could  see  my  letter,  and  were  asked 
simply  "  is  that  letter  admissible  Catholically,  or  is  it  not  .?" 

'  A  more  dignified  way  would  be,  if  some  layman  wrote  to 
me,  calling  my  attention  to  the  proposition,  and  asking  what 
I  thought  of  it,  and  my  writing  my  letter  in  answer,  and  Jiis 
putting  it  in  the  Paper.  But  this  is  a  matter  for  future 
consideration.  .  .  . 

'  Ever  yours  affly, 

J.  H.  N.' 

The  project  fell  through,  as  Father  O'Reilly  was  not 
disposed  to  move  in  the  matter  or  to  repeat  in  writing  at 
a  critical  juncture  the  opinion  he  had  given  earlier. 

'  The  Oratory,  Birmintjham  :  Aug.  4/65. 

'My  dear  H., — Thank  yow  for  your  and  S.'s  letters.  Of 
course  it  puts  an  end  to  the  whole  scheme. 

'  Mr.  Thomas  Arnold  left  the  Catholic  Church  for  a  time. 
-  Father  Stanislas  Flanagan,  at  one  time  an  Oratorian,  was  staying  in  Ireland  at 
this  time.     Father  Flanagan  was  afterwards  parish  priest  at  Adare. 


A   NEW   ARCHBISHOP  (1865-1866)  85 

'I.  As  to  my  bringing  out  my  views,  it  is  absurd. 

'  2.  I  fully  think  with  S.,and  have  ever  said,  that  we  must 
wait  patiently  for  a  re-action. 

'  3.  But  if  there  are  no  protests,  there  will  be  no  re-action. 

'  4.  I  want  simply  a  protest ;  and  that,  as  one  out  of  a 
number  of  accumulating  pebbles  which  at  length  would  fill 
the  2ima  divhia. 

'  5.  I  feel  extremely  (thn'  I  nm  only  conjecturing)  for  a 
number  of  laymen,  especially  converts — and  for  those  who 
are  approaching  the  Church — who  find  all  this  a  grievous 
scandal. 

'  6.  But  further,  which  is  a  practical  point,  if  I  am  asked, 
did  this  convert,  that  inquirer,  or  some  controversialist  appeal 
to  me  and  ask  me,  WJiat  am  I  to  say  ? 

'7.  What  then  am  I  to  say  ?  This  might  come  upon  me 
any  day  suddcnl>-. 

'  It  is  best  then  to  wait  patiently  and  not  to  forestall 
a  crisis,  but  it  is  quite  certain  that  any  day  I  may  be  obliged 
to  give  an  answer.  I  really  do  wish  I  had  a  distinct  opinion 
given  me  as  my  safeguard, — in  confidence  of  course. 

'  But  after  all,  priests  all  thro'  the  country  will  follow 
Ward,  if  he  is  let  alone — and  how  much  more  difficult  will 
a  collision  be  ten  years  hence  than  now ! 

'  I  may  not  see  that  time — and  I  should  care  nothing  for 
any  personal  obloquy  which  might  come  on  me  now,  so  that 
I  am  sure  of  my  ground.  How  very  hard  a  man  like  Father 
O'Reilly  will  not  at  least  in  confidence  speak  out !  Unless 
he  has  changed,  I  kfioiv  he  could  not,  simply,  subscribe  that 
sentence. 

'  Ever  yours  afifly, 

J.  H.  N.' 

Newman  felt  himself  powerless  to  act.  But  he  did  not 
rest  until  he  had  pressed  his  question  home  in  Rome  itself; 
and  eighteen  months  later  he  had  the  satisfaction  of  learning 
from  Ambrose  St.  John  that  the  Roman  theologians  whom 
he  conversed  with  agreed  with  himself  in  withholding  from 
the  Encyclical  the  character  of  an  infallible  utterance.  This 
fact  is  recorded  in  a  letter  to  Mr.  F.  R.  Ward.' 

'  '  Do  I  understand  you  to  assume,'  he  writes  to  Mr.  Ward  on  May  24,  1867, 
'that  the  Encyclical  of  1864  i-^  Infallible?  They  don't  say  so  in  Rome— as 
Father  St.  |ohn,  who  has  returned,  says  distinctly.'  His  own  final  judgment  is 
recorded  in  his  letter  to  the  Duke  of  Norfolk — that  the  estimate  of  the  authority 
of  such  documents  and  of  what,  if  anything,  they  do  teach  infallibly,  is  a  matter  of 
time  and  is  the  business  of  the  Schola  Theologorum,  not  a  matter  for  the  private 


86  LIFE   OF   CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

Cardinal  Wiseman  died  in  February  1865,  but,  as  we  have 
seen,  not  before  he  had,  under  Manning's  influence,  both  put 
an  end  to  the  Oxford  scheme  and  inflicted  the  blow  already- 
spoken  of  on  the  Association  for  the  Promotion  of  the  Unity 
of  Christendom.  Newman's  mind  went  back  to  memories  of 
the  Cardinal's  early  kindness  to  him,  and  he  preached  a  sermon 
on  the  work  he  had  done,  which  made  a  marked  impression 
on  the  Oratorian  Fathers.  The  great  funeral  followed,  which 
brought  so  astonishing  a  demonstration  of  interest  and  respect 
that  the  Times  declared  that  there  had  been  nothing  like  it 
since  the  funeral  of  the  Duke  of  Wellington.  Newman  was 
not  present  at  the  funeral. 

He  wrote  of  Wiseman  to  their  common  friend  Dr.  Russell 
on  March  2  : 

'  The  Cardinal  has  done  a  great  work — and  I  think  has 
finished  it.  It  is  not  often  that  this  can  be  said  of  a  man. 
Personally  I  have  not  much  to  thank  him  for,  since  I  was  a 
Catholic.  He  always  meant  kindly,  but  his  impulses,  kind  as 
they  were,  were  evanescent,  and  he  was  naturally  influenced 
by  those  who  got  around  him — and  occupied  his  ear.  In 
passing  through  London  last  St.  Charles's  day,  quite  provi- 
dentially (for  I  call  it  so)  I  called  on  him.  He  was  then 
very  ill — but  he  saw  me  for  ten  minutes.  I  have  not  seen 
him  alone  6  or  7  times  in  the  last  1 3  years.  It  was  considerate 
in  the  parties,  whoever  they  were,  concerned  in  his  funeral 
arrangements,  that  I  was  not  asked  to  attend.  I  really 
should  not  have  been  able  without  risk,  yet  it  would  have 
been  painful  to  refuse.  What  a  wonderful  fact  is  the  recep- 
tion given  to  his  funeral  by  the  population  of  London  !  And 
the  newspapers  remark  that  the  son  of  that  Lord  Campbell, 
who  talked  of  trampling  upon  his  Cardinal's  Hat  14  years 
ago,  was  present  at  the  Requiem  Mas.s.' 

For  a  moment  Newman  hoped  that  the  great  pre- 
dominance of  Manning's  influence  in  Rome,  which  meant 
the  still  more  intrmisigemit  influence  of  his  close  ally  W.  G. 
Ward,  might    come  to  an  end    with    the    Cardinal's    death. 

judgment  of  individual  Catholics.  So  little  can  this  be  in  some  cases  securely 
detremined  with  certainty  at  first,  that  doctrines  may  long  be  generally  held  to  be 
condemned  which  are  afterwards  considered  allowable.  At  the  same  time,  while 
denying  the  dogmatic  force  of  the  Syllabus,  Newman  does  not  in  the  Letter  deny 
that  Pius  IX.  issued  the  Encyclical  Qua7iia  Cura  as  Universal  Doctor.  Of  this  I 
shall  speak  later  on. 


A   NEW  ARCHBISHOP  (1865-1866)  87 

Dr.  Ullathorne  was  spoken  of  as  a  possible  successor  to 
Wiseman,  and  had  he  been  Archbishop,  Newman's  own  in- 
fluence in  the  Church  would  have  been  quite  on  a  new  footing. 
But  it  was  not  to  be.  Manning  himself  was  appointed  by 
the  Holy  See.  With  him  as  Archbishop,  and  Ward  as  his 
counsellor  and  editor  of  the  Dublin  Review,  the  prospect  was 
black  indeed. 

Newman's  language  on  Manning's  appointment  was, 
however,  generous,  though  guarded. 

*  As  to  the  new  Archbishop,'  he  writes  to  a  friend  on 
May  15,  'the  appointment  at  least  has  the  effect  of  making 
Protestants  see,  to  their  surprise,  that  Rome  is  not  distrustful 
of  converts,  as  such.  On  the  other  hand  it  must  be  a  great 
trial  to  the  old  Priesthood  ;  to  have  a  neophyte  set  over  them 
all.  Some  will  bear  it  very  well, — -I  think  our  Bishop  will — 
but  I  cannot  prophesy  what  turn  things  will  take  on  the 
whole.  He  has  a  great  power  of  winning  men  where  he 
chooses.  Witness  the  fact  of  his  appointment, — but  whether 
he  will  care  to  win  inferiors,  or  whether  his  talent  extends  to 
the  case  of  inferiors  as  well  as  superiors,  I  do  not  know. 

'  One  man  has  one  talent,  another  another.  You  speak 
of  me.  I  have  generally  got  on  well  with  juniors,  but  not 
with  superiors.  My  going  to  Rome,  as  you  wish  me,  would 
only  be,  as  indeed  it  has  been  already,  an  additional  instance 
of  this.' 

To  Mr.  Ornsby,  who  lamented  that  Manning  and  not 
Newman  himself  was  to  be  placed  at  the  head  of  English 
Catholics,  he  writes  on  May  20  : 

'Thank  you  for  your  notice  of  myself  in  re  Archi- 
episcopatus,  but  such  preferment  is  not  in  my  line.  Were 
it  offered  me  I  should  unhesitatingly  decline  it,  and  my 
unsuitableness  is  felt  by  those  who  determine  these  things 
as  fully  as  it  is  by  myself.  However,  Manning's  rise  is 
marvellous.  In  fourteen  years  a  Protestant  Archdeacon  is 
made  Catholic  Archbishop  of  Westminster,  with  the  whole 
body  of  old  Catholics, — Bishops  and  all — under  him.  At 
the  moment  he  is  very  unpopular,  but,  I  suppose,  there  will 
be  a  reaction.  Protestants  cannot  but  be  pleased  to  see  an 
Oxford  man,  a  Fellow  of  Merton,  a  parson,  make  his  way  to 
the  top  of  the  tree  in  such  a  communion  as  the  Roman, — 
and  success  is  the  goddess  of  an  Englishman — "  Te  nos 
facimus,  Fortuna,  deam. "     Then,  as  to  Catholics,  a  man  in 


^ 


88  LIFE   OF   CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

authority  has  such  great  opportunities  of  recovering  his 
ground,  if  he  chooses  to  employ  them.  He  will  gradually 
fill  the  Chapter  with  his  own  men.  He  will  make  Missionary 
Rectors,  and  do  private  services.  Then  his  great  qualifi- 
cations will  overcome  the  laity.  And  he  has  such  power  of 
persuasion  that,  if  he  chooses  it,  he  will  be  able  to  bring 
over  the  Bishops.' 

The  new  Archbishop-elect  began  with  conciliation.  In- 
deed, the  general  unpopularity  of  his  appointment  made 
conciliation  an  urgent  necessity.  He  offered  to  obtain  for 
Newman  a  titular  Bishopric,  but  Newman  declined.  '  He 
wants  to  put  me  in  the  House  of  Lords  and  muzzle  me,' 
Newman  said.  Indeed,  the  following  letters  show  that  he 
made  it  a  condition  of  attending  the  Archbishop's  consecra- 
tion that  he  should  desist  from  any  such  attempt. 

Dr.  Manning  to  Dr.  Newman. 

'St.  Joseph's  Retreat:  May  30,  1865. 

'  My  dear  Newman, — In  calling  to  mind  the  old  and  dear 
Friends  who  would  pray  for  me  at  this  moment  your  name 
arose  among  the  first  ;  and  I  cannot  refrain  from  writing  to 
ask  you  to  give  me  the  happiness  and  consolation  of  your 
being  with  me  on  the  8th  of  June  next  at  Moorfields.  No 
one  will  better  know  than  you  how  much  I  need  your  prayers. 

'  I  will  give  directions  that  places  shall  be  reserved  for  you, 
and  for  Father  St.  John  and  that  some  one  should  be  ready 
to  receive  you  if  }'OU  will  call  at  the  house,  22  Finsbury  Circus, 
if  you  can  kindly  come. 

'  I  was  in  Birmingham  two  months  ago,  and  was  starting 
to  see  you  when  I  found  my  time  too  short  to  reach  you. 

'I  was  glad  to  hear  the  other  day  that  you  are  well  and 
strong. 

'  Believe  me,  always 

Yours  very  affectionately, 

H.  E.  Manning.' 

Dr.  Newman  to  Dr.  Manning. 

'  May  31,  1865. 

'  My  dear  Archbishop, — On  hearing  of  your  appointment 
I  said  Mass  for  you  without  delay.  I  will  readily  attend 
your  consecration — on  one  condition  which  I  will  state 
presently.  As  I  come  as  your  friend,  not  as  a  Father  of  the 
Birmingham  Oratory,  I  do  not  propose  to  bring  any  other 
Father  with  me.     I  am  sure  you  will  allow  me  to  escape  any 


A   NEW   ARCHBISHOP   (1865-1866)  89 

dinner  or  other  meeting,  as  such  public  manifestations  are  so 
much  out  of  my  way.  Nor  do  they  come  into  the  object  of 
your  asking  me  ;  which  is,  as  you  have  said,  to  have  my 
prayers  at  the  function  itself. 

'  The  condition  I  make  is  this  : — A  year  or  two  back  I 
heard  you  were  doing  your  best  to  get  me  made  a  bishop 
in  partibus.  I  heard  this  from  two  or  three  quarters,  and 
I  don't  see  how  I  can  be  mistaken.  If  so,  your  feeling  towards 
me  is  not  unlikely  to  make  you  attempt  the  same  thing  now. 
I  risk  the  chance  of  your  telling  me  that  you  have  no  such 
intention,  to  entreat  you  not  to  entertain  it.  If  such  an 
honour  were  offered  to  me,  I  should  persistently  decline  it, 
very  positively,  and  I  do  not  wish  to  pain  the  Holy  Father, 
who  has  always  been  so  kind  to  me,  if  such  pain  can  be 
avoided.  Your  allowing  me  then  to  come  to  your  con- 
secration, I  shall  take  as  a  pledge  that  you  will  have  nothing 
to  do  with  any  such  attempts. 

'J.  H.  N.' 

Dr.  Manning  to  Dr.  Newman. 

'  June  4,  1865. 

'  My  dear  Newman, — It  will  be  a  happiness  to  me  to 
know  that  you  are  with  me  on  Thursday.  And  I  therefore 
will  not  contest  what  you  write.  But  if  you  have  not 
destroyed  a  letter  I  wrote  you  when  what  you  refer  to  was 
first  intended  many  years  ago,  you  will  know  my  mind.  I 
think  that  such  an  intention  ought  not  to  have  been 
suspended.  And  I  have  for  more  than  two  years  done  my 
part  to  accomplish  it.  I  do  not  look  upon  it  as  a  mere 
decoration,  but  as  having  its  fitness  in  many  relations.  You 
have  known  me  well  enough  to  know  that  decorations  have 
no  worth  with  cither  of  us.  But  your  wish  must  be  final  with 
me.  You  will  be  able  to  come  and  go  freely  by  the  house 
22  Finsbury  Circus.  But  I  hope  you  will  let  me  see  you.  I 
shall  be  there  by  a  little  after  nine.  I  thank  you  much  for 
your  kindness  in  saying  Mass  for  me.  I  will  not  fail  to  do 
so  for  you.  And  I  thank  you  for  the  kind  words  with  which 
I  believe  you  have  commended  me  to  the  prayers  of  )Our 
Flock. 

'  Believe  me,  always,  my  dear  Newman, 

Yours  affectionately, 

H.  E.  Manning.' 

Newman  came  to  London  for  the  Archbishop's  con- 
secration on  June  7,  staying  for  the  occasion  with  his  old 


90  LIFE   OF   CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

friend,  Sir  Frederick  Rogers.     He  planned  at  the  same  time 

a  farewell  visit  to  Keble  at  Hursley — they  had  not  met  for 

twenty  years.     This  was,  however,  postponed  ;  but  another 

old  friend,  R.  W.  Church,  was  invited  to  meet  him  at  Rogers' 

house. 

'The  Oratory,  Birmingham  :  June  4th,  1865. 

'  My  dear  Rogers, — I  shall  rejoice  to  see  Church.  As  we 
have  put  off  the  Hursley  expedition,  I  shall  have  Copeland 
alone  in  his  nest  at  Farnham.  I  come  up  to  town 
Wednesday  morning,  get  through  various  jobs  and  see 
various  people,  and  I  propose  to  get  to  you  by  seven  p.m., 
which,  I  consider,  will  be  not  later  than  your  dinner  hour. 
It  is  Ember  Day,  but,  as  I  shall  have  had  a  working  day,  I 
mean  to  take  the  liberty  of  working  men,  and  eat  as  much 
roast  beef  as  you  will  give  me. 

'The  consecration  is  fixed  as  early  as  10  a.m.  Therefore 
I  shall  have  to  beg  a  little  breakfast  before  nine,  and  must 
allow  an  hour  for  getting  to  Moorfields.  I  meant  to  have 
asked  you  the  name  of  a  coach-keeper  (what  is  the  business 
called  .'')  near  you,  from  whom  I  could  hire  a  brougham  for 
half  a  day.  The  service  I  expect  will  be  very  long, — 
Dr.  Ullathorne's  consecration  in  1846,  the  only  one  I  was 
ever  at  in  England,  was  four  hours.  I  don't  wait  for  the 
dejeuner,  if  there  be  one  ;  but,  as  there  will  be  lots  of  people 
there,  I  shall  find  it  difficult  to  get  away.  I  want  you  to 
keep  me  till  Friday  if  you  can.  If  so,  I  hope  to  dine  with 
you  on  Thursday  as  well  as  Wednesday. 

•  It  is  very  pleasant  the  thought  of  .seeing  you  in 
Devonshire, — but  I  don't  see  the  way  to  it. 

'  Ever  yours  affectionately, 

John  H.  Newman.' 

The  meeting  with  Rogers  was  probably  a  pleasure  more 
free  from  sad  associations  than  the  ceremony  at  Moorfields. 
Newman  writes  of  it  thus  to  Mrs.  Froude  : 

'  Nothing  could  be  more  ca.sy  and  familiar  than  his 
manners  with  me  now.  My  surmise  is,  that  he  thinks 
me  a  profoundly  sceptical  thinker,  who,  determined  on 
not  building  on  an  abyss,  have,  by  mere  strength  of  will, 
bridged  it  over,  and  built  upon  my  bridge — but  that  my 
bridge,  like  Mahomet's  coffin,  is  self  suspended,  by  the 
action  of  the  will — but  I  may  be  putting  it  too  strong.  He 
himself  is  not  nearly  so  sceptical  as  I  had  feared.  I  like 
Lady  Rogers  very  much.' 


A   NEW   ARCHBISHOP   (1865-1866)  91 

One  of  the  first  things  which  claimed  the  attention  of 
the  new  Archbishop  was  the  publication  of  Dr.  Pusey's 
'  Eirenicon.'  The  action  of  Manning  and  of  Rome  in  con- 
nection with  the  A.P.U.C.  naturally  angered  Pusey,  and  in 
1865  he  was  engaged  in  writing  an  attack  on  extrava- 
gances current  among  Catholics  in  belief  and  devotion. 
These  extravagances  were  represented  by  him  as  barriers 
to  reunion,  but  nevertheless  he  gave  his  book  the  name 
of  '  Eirenicon.'  He  made  considerable  use,  in  illustration  of 
his  theme,  of  Faber's  strong  language  on  the  Devotion  to 
the  Blessed  Virgin,  and  of  Ward's  articles  in  the  Dublin 
Review  on  Papal  Infallibility.  To  this  course,  which  he  com- 
municated to  Newman  in  a  letter  before  the  book  appeared, 
Newman  demurred.  He  did  not  consider  that  either  Faber's 
or  Ward's  views  were  representative.  '  I  believe,'  he  wrote 
to  Pusey  in  reference  to  Faber's  writings,  '  that  judicious 
people  think  them  crude  and  young,  perhaps  extravagant. 
He  was  a  poet.' 

Of  Ward  he  spoke  in  a  letter  dated  September  5.  Pusey 
had  written  to  his  friend  offering  the  gift  of  his  book,  and 
wondering  whether  its  appearance  would  call  forth  any  com- 
ment from  the  pen  of  Newman  himself.  Newman  replied 
as  follows  : 

'  The  Oratory,  Birmingham  :  Sept.  5th,  1865. 

'  For  myself,  I  don't  think  I  have  v/ritten  anything 
controversial  for  the  last  14  years.  Nor  have  I  ever,  as  I 
think,  replied  to  any  controversial  notice  of  what  I  have 
written.  Certainly,  I  let  pass  without  a  word  the  various 
volumes  that  were  written  in  answer  to  my  Essay  on 
Doctrinal  Development,  and  that  on  the  principle  that  Truth 
defends  itself,  and  falsehood  refutes  itself, —  and  that,  having 
said  my  say,  time  would  decide  for  me,  without  my  trouble, 
how  far  it  was  true,  and  how  far  not  true.  And  I  have 
quoted  Crabbe's  lines  as  to  my  purpose,  (though  I  can't 
quote  correctly) : 

'  Leaving  the  case  to  Time,  who  solves  all  doubt 
I'y  bringing  Truth,  his  glorious  daughter,  out. 

'  This  being  so,  I  can't  conceive  I  could  feel  it  in  any 
sense  an  imperative  duty  to  remark  on  anything  you  said  in 
your  book.  I  daresay  there  is  a  great  deal  in  which  I  should 
agree.  Certainly  1  so  dislike  Ward's  \\ay  of  going  on,  that 
I  can't  get  myself  to  read  the  Dublin.     But  on  those  points 


92  LIFE   OF   CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

I  have  said  my  say  in  my  "  Apologia"  ;  and,  though  I  can't 
see  the  future,  am  likely  to  leave  them  alone.  A  great  attempt 
has  been  made  in  some  quarters  to  find  (censurable)  mistakes 
in  my  book — but  it  has  altogether  failed,  and  I  consider 
Ward's  articles  to  be  impotent  attempts  to  put  down  by 
argument  what  is  left  safe  in  the  domain  of  theological 
opinion. 

'  But,  while  I  would  maintain  my  own  theological 
opinions,  I  don't  dispute  Ward  the  right  of  holding  his,  so 
that  he  does  not  attempt  to  impose  them  on  me, — nor  do 
I  dispute  the  right  of  whoso  will  to  use  devotions  to  the 
Blessed  Virgin  which  seem  to  me  unnatural  and  forced. 
Did  authorit)'  attempt  to  put  them  down  while  they  do  not 
infringe  on  the  great  Catholic  verities,  I  think  it  would  act 
as  the  Bishop  of  London  is  doing  in  putting  down  the  devo- 
tional observances  of  the  Tractarian  party  at  St.  Michael's 
and  elsewhere.  He  is  tender  towards  freethinkers,  and 
stern  towards  Romanisers.  "  Dat  veniam  corvis,  vexat 
censura  columbas."  Now  the  Church  of  Rome  is  severe 
on  freethinkers,  and  indulgent  towards  devotees.' 

Some  more  letters  were  exchanged  between  Newman 
and  Pusey.  But  the  two  men  were  to  meet  soon — even 
before  the  new  book  had  reached  Newman.  And  the  meet- 
ing was  unexpected,  dramatic,  and  somewhat  painful. 

Newman's  deferred  visit  to  Keble  at  Hursley  was  at 
last  arranged  for  September  13.  Since  August  4  they  had 
been  corresponding  as  to  its  date.  It  was  a  great  event  in 
prospect,  and  Newman's  letters  show  how  much  it  dwelt  in 
his  mind.  And  he  particularly  wished  to  avoid — what  in 
the  event  happened — meeting  Pusey  at  the  same  time.  To 
see  both  the  old  friends  at  once  after  such  long  separation 
seemed  to  be  more  than  he  could  bear. 

'  The  Oratory,  Birmingham  :  August  4,  1865. 

'  My  dear  Keble, — You  must  not  fancy  I  am  forgetting  to 
avail  myself  of  your  welcome  wish,  because  I  have  not  yet 
made  my  way  to  you.  I  find  it  very  difficult  to  leave 
home — just  now,  impossible.  As  it  is  vacation  time,  most  of 
our  party  are  away — working  hard,  this  is  their  only  chance 
of  a  holyday  in  the  year.  I  am  one  of  the  few,  who  are  here 
to  keep  on  the  duties  of  the  Church  etc.  Moreover,  the 
house,  as  empty  of  its  natural  inmates,  is  filled  with  plas- 
terers, bricklayers,  painters,  carpenters,  who  are  having  their 


A   NEW   ARCHBISHOP   (1865-1866)  93 

innings — and  it  does  not  do  to  let  the  place  be  simply  in  the 
hands  of  Brummagem  workmen. 

'  I  don't  like  to  promise  anything — but  it  is  my  full 
intention,  when  relieved  of  all  this  superintendence,  to  move 
down  to  Hursley. 

'  So  Gladstone  has  left  you.'  He  came  when  I  had  ceased 
to  be  an  Oxford  man — so  I  never  had  him.  A  very  painful 
separation,  certainly,  both  for  him  and  for  all  of  you.  Yet, 
really,  he  does  go  great  lengths — and  I  cannot  help  feeling 
that  the  anxiety  to  keep  him,  on  the  part  of  such  persons  as 
yourself,  was  quite  as  much  on  his  own  account  as  on  account 
of  the  University.  He  has  lost  his  tether,  now  that  the  Con- 
servatives have  got  rid  of  him — and  won't  he  go  lengths  ?  I 
was  pained  at  his  "keep  moving"  speech.  In  saying  all 
this,  I  am  putting  myself  in  your  place,  (for  I  suppose  he  will 
do  good  to  us)  but  I  declare,  I  should  have  been  in  great 
perplexity,  had  I  been  an  Oxford  man,  how  to  vote.  I 
suppose  I  should  certainly  in  the  event  have  voted  for  him — 
but  most  grudgingly.  None  of  his  friends  seem  to  trust  his 
politics — indeed  he  seems  not  to  know  himself  what  are  his 
landmarks  and  his  necessary  limits. 

'  Don't  fancy  I  am  saying  this  without  the  greatest 
respect  and  liking  for  him  (though  I  scarcely  know  him 
personally) — all  one  can  say  is  that  the  great  deluge  is 
pouring  in — and  his  boat  is  as  good  as  another's.  Who  is 
there  to  trust  ?  .  .  . 

'  Ever  yours  affectionately, 

John  H.  Newman.' 

I  append  three  more  letters — two  of  them  mere  notes — 
which  bring  before  us  Newman's  sense  of  effort  in  making 
his  arrangements  for  the  eventful  meeting  with  his  friend 
after  so  many  years  of  separation  : 

'The  Oratory,  Birmingham  :  September  i,  1865. 

*  My  dear  Keblc, — I  have  a  great  shrinking  from  pledging 
myself,  for  sometimes  I  cannot  fulfil,  and  therefore  disappoint 
the  jjarties  to  whom  I  have  pledged  myself — but,  please  God, 
if  all  is  well,  and  (f  it  suits  you,  I  propose  to  be  with  you  on 
Thursday  morning  next,  and  spend  the  day  witli  you.  I 
leave  you  for  the  H.  ]-5owdens  at  R\-dc. 

'  Ever  yours  affectionately, 

John  H.  Newman.' 

'  Mr.  Gladstone  was  defeated  as  candidate  for  Oxford  University  in  July  1865, 
being  third  on  the  poll. — Morley's  Life,  ii.  147. 


94  LIFE   OF   CARDINAL    NEWMAN 

'  The  Oratory,  Birmingham  :  September  4,  (6$. 

'  My  dear  Keble,  -I  grieve  to  hear  your  anxiety  about 
Mrs.  Keble.  I  will  t/e/ay — for  what  I  see,  I  need  not  be  Jixed 
here  till  about  the  20th.  Before  that  time  your  anxiety  may 
be  over  and  you  may  be  back  home — and  then  I  will  come 
to  you.  If  not,  I  will  wait  a  better  time.  We  must  take  it 
easy. 

'  Ever  yours  affectionately, 

John  H.  Newman.' 

'  Rednal :  September  7,  1865. 

'  My  dear  Keble, — I  am  glad  Mrs.  Keble  is  so  much  better. 
As  I  have  no  Bradshaw  here  (Rednal)  I  can't  fix  on  a  train 
— but,  if  all  is  well,  I  shall  go  straight  to  Southampton,  on 
Monday  afternoon — sleep  there— and  leave  my  baggage — and 
come  over  to  you  on  Tuesday  morning.  But,  it  is  so  difficult 
to  go  into  Birmingham  without  falling  in  [with]  and  being 
detained  by  people,  especially  as  our  school  is  just  reassem- 
bling and  a  British  Association  is  going  on,  (this  has  taken 
me  out  here)  that  I  don't  like  to  promise. 

'  There  is  another  difficulty.  /  wish  you  would  put  me  off, 
if  Pusey  is  coming  to  you.  I  say  so  merely,  as  you  must  feel, 
because  to  meet  two  friends  is  not  to  meet  one.  Copeland 
is  another  matter,  for  I  have  seen  him  so  often.  Pusey  has 
told  me  he  is  going  to  you  next  week.  To  put  me  off  would 
only  postpone  me — for,  please  God,  /  ivill  come. 

'  Ever  yours  affectionately, 

J.  H.  N. 

'  P.S. — I  consider  this  will  get  to  you  to-morrow  noon — 
so  you  will  have  time  to  put  me  off.  (Direct  to  the  Oratory.) 
Or  you  might  write  to  me  "  Railroad  Hotel,  Southampton." 
If  I  found  Pusey  was  with  you,  I  should  go  on  to  H.  Bowden's 
for  a  day  or  two.' 

In  the  event  Puse\'  did  send  word  to  Keble  that  he  was 
also  going  to  Hursley  on  that  day,  and  Keble  wrote  to  put 
Newman  off.  Newman,  however,  thought  his  own  hesitation 
cowardly  and  persevered  in  his  plan  of  going  to  see  Keble, 
postponing  his  visit  only  one  day.  The  meeting  between 
the  three  was  related  some  years  after  the  event  in  a  well- 
known  letter  from  Newman  to  Keble's  biographer.  More 
interesting  and  graphic  is  the  account  given  at  the  time  to 
Ambrose  St.  John  : 


A   NEW    ARCHBISHOP   (1865-1866)  95 

'  Buckland  Grange,  Rycic  :  September  I3lh,  1865. 

'  Here  I  am,  very  comfortable,  and  if  I  had  my  dear  fiddle 
with  me,  I  might  sing  and  play,  "  recubans  sub  tegminc  fagi," 
in  full  content.  Scarcely  had  I  left  Birmingham  when  it 
struck  me  that,  since  Pusey  was  to  be  at  Keble's  that  evening, 
he  would,  no  manner  of  doubt,  get  into  my  train  at  Oxford 
and  travel  down  with  me.  But  he  did  not.  I  determined  to 
go  to  Keble's  next  morning  to  see  him. 

*  So  I  did.  I  slept  at  the  Railway  Hotel  at  Southampton 
Dock,  a  very  reasonable  house,  and  good  too,  (they  are  build- 
ing an  Imperial  Hotel),  and  yesterday  morning  (Tuesday) 
retraced  my  steps  to  Bishopstoke,  left  my  portmanteau 
there,  and  went  over  to  Hursley.  I  had  forgotten  the 
country,  and  was  not  prepared  for  its  woodland  beauty. 
Keble  was  at  the  door  ;  he  did  not  know  me,  nor  1  him. 
How  mysterious  that  first  sight  of  friends  is !  for,  when  I 
came  to  contemplate  him,  it  was  the  old  face  and  manner, 
but  the  first  effect  or  impression  was  different. 

'  His  wife  had  been  taken  ill  in  the  night,  and  at  the  first 
moment  Jic,  T  think,  and  certainly  /,  wished  myself  away. 
Then  he  said  :  "  Have  you  missed  my  letter  ? "  meaning, 
"  Pusey  is  here,  and  I  wrote  to  stop  your  coming."  He  then 
said  :  "  I  must  go  and  prepare  Pusey."  He  did  so,  and  then 
took  me  into  the  room  where  Pusey  was. 

*  I  went  in  rapidly,  and  it  is  strange  how  action  overcomes 
pain.  Pusey,  being  passive,  was  evidently  shrinking  back 
into  the  corner  of  the  room,  as  I  should  have  done,  had  he 
rushed  in  upon  me.  He  could  not  help  contemplating  the 
look  of  me  narrowly  and  long.  "  Ah,"  I  thought,  "you  are 
thinking  how  old  I  am  grown,  and  I  see  myself  in  you, — 
though  you,  I  do  think,  are  more  altered  than  I."  Indeed, 
the  alteration  in  him  startled,  I  will  add  pained  and  grieved, 
me.  I  should  have  known  him  anywhere  ;  his  face  is  not 
changed,  but  it  is  as  if  you  looked  at  him  through  a  pro- 
digious magnifier.  I  recollect  him  short  and  small,  with  a 
round  head  and  smallish  features,  flaxen  curly  hair;  huddled 
up  together  from  his  shoulders  downward,  and  walking  fast. 
This  as  a  young  man  ;  but  comparing  him  even  as  he  was 
when  I  had  last  seen  him  in  1846,  when  he  was  slow  in  his 
motions  and  staid  in  his  figure,  there  was  a  wonderful  change 
in  him.  His  head  and  features  are  half  as  large  again  ;  his 
chest  is  very  broad,  and  he  is  altogether  large,  and  (don't  say 
all  this  to  anyone)  he  has  a  strange  condescending  way  when 
he  speaks.  His  voice  is  the  same  ;  were  my  e)'es  shut,  I 
should  not  be  sensible  of  any  alteration. 


g6  LIFE   OF   CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

*  As  we  three  sat  together  at  one  table,  I  had  a  painful 
thought,  not  acute  pain,  but  heavy.  There  were  three  old 
men,  who  had  worked  together  vigorously  in  their  prime. 
This  is  what  they  have  come  to, — poor  human  nature  !  After 
twenty  years  they  meet  together  round  a  table,  but  without 
a  common  cause  or  free  outspoken  thought ;  kind  indeed,  but 
subdued  and  antagonistic  in  their  language  to  each  other,  and 
all  of  them  with  broken  prospects,  yet  each  viewing  in  his 
own  way  the  world  in  which  those  prospects  lay. 

'  Pusey  is  full  of  his  book  (the  "  Eirenicon  "),  which  is  all 
but  published,  against  Manning,  and  full  of  his  speech  on  the 
relations  of  physical  science  with  the  Bible,  which  he  is  to 
deliver  at  the  Church  Congress  at  Norwich  ;  full  of  polemics 
and  hope.  Keble  is  quite  different ;  he  is  as  delightful  as 
ever,  and  it  seemed  to  me  as  if  he  felt  a  sympathy  and 
intimacy  with  me  which  he  did  not  show  towards  Pusey.  I 
judge  by  the  way  and  tone  he  spoke  to  me  of  him.  I  took 
an  early  dinner  with  them  ;  and,  when  the  bell  chimed  at 
4  o'clock  for  service,  I  got  into  my  gig,  and  so  from  Bishop- 
stoke  to  Ryde,  getting  here  between  7  and  8.' 

A  letter  to  Mrs.  Froude  adds  some  characteristic  touches  : 

'  When  I  got  to  Keble's  door,  he  happened  to  be  at  it,  but 
we  did  not  know  each  other,  and  I  was  obliged  to  show  him 
my  card.  Is  not  this  strange  ?  it  is  imagination  mastering 
reason.  He  indeed  thought,  since  Pusey  was  coming,  I 
should  not  come  that  day — but  I  knew  beyond  doubt  that 
I  was  at  his  house — yet  I  dared  not  presume  it  was  he — but, 
after  he  began  to  talk,  the  old  Keble,  that  is,  the  young,  came 
out  from  his  eyes  and  his  features,  and  I  daresay,  if  I  saw  him 
once  or  twice,  I  should  be  unable  to  see  much  difference 
between  his  present  face  and  his  face  of  past  days.'  As  Mrs. 
Keble  was  ill,  we  then  dined  together  tcte-d-tcte — a  thing  we 
never  perhaps  had  done  before — there  was  something  awful 
in  three  men  meeting  in  old  age  who  had  worked  together  in 
their  best  days.  Vanity  of  vanities,  all  is  vanity,  was  the 
sad  burden  of  the  whole  -once  so  united,  now  so  broken  up, 
so  counter  to  each  other — though  neither  of  them  of  course 
would  quite  allow  it.     Keble  has  since  written  to  mc,  "  when 

'  '  As  hours  went  on,'  he  writes  to  Dean  Church,  '  the  72ota  fades  came  out 
upon  his  countenance,  as  if  it  were  the  soul  itself  showing  itnelf  in  spite  of  the 
course  and  change  of  time.  He  always  had  an  expression  like  no  one  else,  and 
that  sweet  pleading  earnestness  never  showed  itself  to  me  so  piercingly  as  then,  in 
his  eyes  and  in  his  carriage.' 


A   NEW   ARCHBISHOP  (1865-1866)  97 

shall  we  three   meet  again?  soon — when  the   hurly  burly 's 
done." 

'  Keble  is  deaf— but,  what  is  worse,  his  speech  is  much 
impaired — and  I  think  he  thinks  more  slowly.  Pusey  was  full 
of  plans,  full  of  meetings.  He  has  since  made  an  important 
speech  at  Norwich  on  the  interpretation  of  Scripture,  which 
will  do  good,  and  of  this  he  was  full.  Then,  he  was  just  on 
publishing  his  book  which  he  calls  an  Eirenicon,  and  he  was 
full  of  it,  though  he  was  cautious  of  letting  out  all  that  was  in 
it.  Have  you  seen  it?  It  is  anything  but  an  Eirenicon — it  is 
likely  to  make  Catholics  very  angry — and  justly  angry.' 


Keble  passed  away  in  the  following  year.  The  loss  of 
their  common  friend  brought  a  kindly  exchange  of  letters 
between  Newman  and  Archbishop  Manning.  Manning  sent 
affectionate  Easter  greetings  and  expressed  deep  sympathy 
with  Newman  in  his  loss. 

Newman  replied  as  follows  : 

'  The  Oratory,  Birmingham  :  Easter  Day,  April  1st,  i866. 

'  My  dear  Archbishop, —  I  thank  you  for  your  Easter 
greetings  and  return  them  with  all  my  heart. 

'  I  don't  know  how  far  you  know  the  particulars  of  Keble's 
death.  His  wife  had  apparently  only  a  few  hours  to  live — so 
said  the  doctors  about  a  fortnight  ago.  He  had  nursed  her 
till  then ;  but  then  he  was  seized  with  fainting  fits,  which 
turned  to  erysipelas  in  the  head,  and  he  died  in  the  early 
morning  of  Holy  Thursday.  His  wife  is  still  alive,  but  her 
death  is  constantly  expected.  He  is  to  be  buried  at  Hursley 
next  Thursday.  His  brother  and  brother's  wife  are  with 
them  at  Bournemouth.  I  heard  some  months  ago,  that  his 
brother  too  was  in  bad  health. 

'  Yours  affectionately  in  Xt., 

John  H.  Newman 

of  the  Orator)'.' 

Keble's  death  was  followed  within  a  few  weeks  by  that  of 
Mrs.  Keble.  Newman  tells  the  story  of  the  end  in  a  few  words 
to  a  friend  in  a  letter  of  April  16,  1866  : 

'  Keble  was  told  that  his  wife  could  not  live  man)'  hours. 

He  had  borne  up  in  spite  of  his  great  infirmities,  longer  than 

I  had  supposed  possible.     He  was  seized  with   fainting  fits. 

His  friends  took  him  from  her  room.     When  he  got  into  his 

VOL.  It  H 


98  LIFE  OF   CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

own,  he  fancied  it  a  Church.  He  knelt  down  and  said  the 
Lord's  Prayer.  Then  he  began  a  Latin  hymn, — they  could  not 
make  out  what.  Those  were  his  last  words.  Then  he  ended 
with  the  prayer  which  he  first  said  on  his  knees  as  a  little 
child.' 

It  pained  Newman  to  find  at  such  a  moment  that  his 
dear  friend's  sincerity  was  called  in  question  by  some  of  his 
co-rcligionists — and  this  even  by  converts  who  had  been  for 
years  themselves  sincere  in  their  rejection  of  Rome.  '  It  is 
grievous  that  people  are  so  hard,'  he  wrote  to  Father  Coleridge. 
'  In  converts  it  is  inexcusable.  It  is  a  miserable  spirit  in 
them.' 

'  How  strange  it  is,'  he  writes  to  the  same  correspondent, 
'  Keble  seems  to  have  received  all  doctrine  except  the 
necessity  of  being  in  communion  with  the  Holy  See.  His 
wife,  as  far  as  I  can  make  out,  is  still  alive.  She  kept  back 
the  funeral  a  day,  hoping  to  be  buried  with  him.  Her  grave 
is  made.  To  continue  what  I  said  the  other  day,  it  seems 
to  me  no  difficulty  to  suppose  a  person  in  good  faith  on 
such  a  point  as  the  necessity  of  communion  with  Rome. 
Till  he  saw  that,  (or  that  he  was  not  in  the  Church),  he 
was  bound  to  remain  as  he  was,  and  it  was  in  this  way  that 
he  always  put  it.' 

Very  soon  Newman  had  an  opportunity  of  speaking 
publicly  on  what  he  considered  the  attitude  at  which 
Catholics  should  aim  in  their  relations  to  those  outside  their 
own  Communion.  The  appearance  of  Pusey's  '  Eirenicon  ' 
brought  the  whole  question  to  the  front,  and  though  New- 
man did  not  at  once  reply  to  it,  he  did  so  in  the  end.  His 
pamphlet,  though  less  considerable  in  scope  or  importance 
than  the  '  Apologia,'  attracted  very  wide  attention,  and 
greatly  strengthened  his  influence  among  Catholics  in  Eng- 
land and  in  Rome  itself  But  this  episode  claims  a  separate 
chapter  for  its  treatment. 


CHAPTER   XXIII 

THE   'EIRENICON'    (1865-1866) 

PUSEY's  '  Eirenicon  '  appeared  very  shortly  after  the  meeting 
above  recorded  between  its  author  and  Newman  at  Keble's 
house.  Newman  was  disappointed  at  its  hostile  tone — at 
its  treatment  of  views  maintained  by  the  more  extreme 
Catholic  writers  as  though  they  were  the  acknowledged 
teaching  of  the  Church.  He  himself  had  never  had  hopes 
of  corporate  reunion.  But  he  did  regard  it  as  of  the  utmost 
importance  that  difficulties  in  the  way  of  an  understanding 
should  not  be  exaggerated.  He  wished  any  argument  on 
the  subject  to  be  based  on  a  calm  and  candid  analysis  of 
Catholic  theological  doctrine.  He  deprecated  Pusey's  treat- 
ing as  part  of  the  Catholic  faith  the  views  of  a  party,  or  the 
devotional  language  of  such  a  writer  as  Father  Faber,  which 
was  often  based  only  on  '  pious  opinions.'  Yet  Catholic 
apologists,  who  were  angry  at  Pusey's  tone,  did  not  make  the 
disclaimer  on  this  point  which  Newman  thought  essential  in 
order  to  place  the  Catholic  position  on  a  really  unassailable 
basis.  Those,  on  the  other  hand,  like  Father  Lockhart,  who 
wrote  with  sympathy  for  Pusey,  cherished  Utopian  hopes  as 
to  future  reunion  which  were  not  shared  by  any  appreciable 
section  of  the  Catholic  body.  They  were  indeed  denounced 
as  unorthodox  by  extremists.  Newman  deeply  resented  the 
inquisitorial  spirit  which  was  abroad,  and,  while  not  agreeing 
with  Father  Lockhart,  wished  him  to  have  full  liberty  to  urge 
his  views.  But  what  he  accounted  the  true  Via  Media  he 
gradually  saw  would  not  be  set  forth  publich'  unless  he  wrote 
himself  Even  the  Month,  under  the  editorship  of  Father 
Coleridge,  did  not  evince  the  degree  of  understanding  sym- 
pathy with  Pusey's  book  which  Newman  felt  to  be  required  in 
any  reply  which  was  to  be  at  all  convincing  to  the  Puseyites 

H  2 


TOO  LIFE   OF  CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

« 

themselves.  It  was  an  opportunity  in  one  respect  similar  to 
that  afforded  by  Mr.  Kingsley's  attack.  He  could  answer  and 
disclaim  Ward's  exaggerations  when  Kingsley  urged  them  as 
a  reductio  ad  absiirdtan  of  the  belief  of  Catholics  ;  and  so  now 
he  could  disclaim  Faber's  ultra  statements  on  devotion  to  Our 
Lady  when  Pusey  urged  them  as  an  argument  against  the 
Church,  and  could  perhaps  repeat  his  protest  against  Ward. 
'  Many  persons,'  he  wrote  to  Hope-Scott,  '  wish  me  to  write  on 
the  subject  of  Pusey's  book,  and  it  has  struck  me  that  it  will 
be  the  most  inoffensive  way  of  alluding  to  Faber  and  Ward,  if 
I  can  write  without  hurting  Pusey.'  To  criticise  Ward  and 
Faber  without  such  an  excuse  might  have  seemed  the  attack 
of  a  half-hearted  Catholic,  who  was  stingy  of  belief,  on  those 
who  were  whole-hearted  and  generous.  He  knew,  moreover, 
that  there  still  remained  writers  of  the  old  Catholic  school 
in  England  who  had  ever  been  averse  to  extremes  both  in 
devotion  and  in  theology.  This  gave  him  strong  support, 
and  was  a  fact  which  ought  to  be  brought  home  to  Pusey. 
He  wrote  several  private  letters  to  Pusey  himself  before 
finally  determining  to  publish  anything. 

'The  Oratory,  Birmingham  :  Oct.  31st,  1865. 

'  It  is  true,  too  true,  that  your  book  disappointed  me.  It 
does  seem  to  me  that "  Eirenicon"  is  a  misnomer;  and  that  it 
is  calculated  to  make  most  Catholics  very  angry.  And  that 
because  they  will  consider  it  rhetorical  and  unfair. 

*  How  is  it  fair  to  throw  together  Suarez,  St.  Bernardine, 
Eadmer,  and  Faber  ?  As  to  Faber,  I  never  read  his  books. 
I  never  heard  of  the  names  of  dc  Montfort  and  Oswald. 
Thus  a  person  like  myself  may  be  in  authority  and  place, 
and  know  nothing  at  all  of  such  extravagances  as  these 
writers  put  out.  I  venture  to  say  the  majority  of  Catholics 
in  England  know  nothing  of  them.  They  do  not  colour  our 
body.  They  are  the  opinions  of  a  set  of  people,  and  not  of 
even  them  permanently.  A  young  man  or  woman  takes 
them  up,  and  abandons  them  in  a  few  years.  The  single 
question  is,  how  far  ought  they  to  be  censured.  Such 
extravagances  are  often  censured  by  authority.  I  recollect 
hearing,  more  than  twenty  years  ago,  instances  of  books 
about  the  B.V.M.  which  Pope  Gregory  XVI.  had  censured. 
I  think  I  am  right  in  saying  that  very  superstition  about  Our 
Lady's  presence  in  the  Holy  Eucharist  has  been  censured, — 
I  think  Rogers  told  me  this  in  1841,  writing  from  Rome.  .  .  .' 


THE   'EIRENICON'    (1865-1866)  loi 

*  The  Oratory,  Birmingham:  Nov.  17th,  1865. 

'As  to  the  Infallibility  of  the  Pope,  I  see  nothing 
against  it,  or  to  dread  in  it, — for  I  am  confident  that  it 
must  be  so  limited  practically  that  it  will  leave  things 
as  they  are.  As  to  Ward's  notions,  they  are  preposterous, 
— nor  do  I  see  anything  in  the  Pope's  Encyclical  to  confirm 
them.  ,  .  . 

'Then  again,  as  to  the  Syllabus,  it  has  no  connexion  with 
the  Encyclical,  except  that  of  date.  It  does  not  come  from 
the  Pope.  There  was  a  great  attempt  to  make  it  a  formal 
ecclesiastical  act,  and  in  the  Recueil  you  have  it  with  the 
censures  annexed  to  each  proposition,  as  it  was  originally 
intended, — but  the  Bishops  over  the  world  interfered,  and  the 
censures  were  struck  out — and  it  is  not  a  direct  act  of  the 
Pope's,  but  comes  to  the  Bishops  from  Cardinal  Antonelli, 
with  the  mere  coincidence  of  time,  and  as  a  fact,  each 
condemnation  having  only  the  weight  which  it  had  in  the 
original  Papal  document  (Allocution,  Encyclical,  &c.,  &c.) 
in  which  each  is  to  be  found.  If  an  Allocution  is  of  no 
special  weight,  neither  is  the  condemnation  of  a  proposition 
which  it  contains.  Of  course,  nothing  comes  from  the  Pope 
without  having  weight,  but  there  is  a  great  difference  between 
weight  and  infallibility.  .  .  . 

'  Mgr.  Dupanloup  {cntre  nous)  was  gravely  opposed  to 
the  issuing  of  the  Syllabus,  &c.,  and  much  disconcerted  at  its 
appearance.  Don't  repeat  it,  but  he  said  :  "  If  we  can  tide 
over  the  next  ten  years  we  are  safe."  Perhaps  you  know 
him  already.  You  should  have  seen  Pere  Gratry  in  Paris, — 
I  mean,  he  was  a  man  to  see.  I  thought  Mr.  Pope  could 
have  given  you  the  names  of  persons  who  took  the  same 
moderate  view  of  ecclesiastical  politics.' 

'The  Oratory,  Birmingham  :  Nov.  19th,  1865. 

'  I  am  much  surprised  and  much  rejoiced  to  see  yesterday's 
article  on  your  book  in  the  Weekly  Register.  I  hope  you 
will  like  it.     I  have  not  a  dream  who  wrote  it. 

'  If  they  rat  next  week,  it  will  be  very  provoking.  I  am 
not  easy  about  it,  for  not  long  ago  they  would  not  insert  a 
review  of  a  book  because  it  was  not  according  to  Ward,  who 
is  according  to  Manning,  who  is  according  to  the  Pope.  But 
this  review,  though  not  against  the  mind  of  the  Pope,  is 
certainly  against  Ward  and  Manning. 

'  It  has  surprised  me  so  much  that  I  said  to  myself:  "  Is 
it  possible  that  Manning  himself  has  changed  }  He  is  so 
close,  that  no  one  can  know."  ' 


I02  LIFE   OF   CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

•  The  Oratory,  Birmingham  :  Nov.  23rd,  1865. 

*  I  fear  that  Lockhart  mistakes  what  I  have  said.  ...  I 
grieve  to  say  I  could  not  have  written  exactly  as  he  has 
written.  .  ,  .  But  I  truly  rejoice  to  find  another  can  write  in 
a  less  distant  way  about  your  book  than  I  could  myself, — 
and  I  abominate  the  fierce  tyranny  which  would  hinder  an 
expression  of  opinion  such  as  his,  and  calls  to  account  every- 
one who  ventures  to  keep  clear  of  ultra-isms. 

'  You  may  be  sure  that  Manning  is  under  the  lash  as  well 
as  others.  There  are  men  who  would  remonstrate  with  him, 
and  complain  of  him  at  Rome  if  he  did  not  go  all  lengths, — 
and  in  his  position  he  can't  afford  to  get  into  hot  water,  even 
tho'  he  were  sure  to  get  out  of  it.' 

Newman's  final  resolution  to  publish  a  reply  to  Pusey 
was  conveyed  to  his  friend  in  the  following  letter,  written  on 
the  Feast  of  the  Immaculate  Conception — the  day  after  the 
answer  was  completed  : 

*  The  Oratory,  Birmingham  :  In  fest.  Concept.  Immac.  1865. 

'  You  must  not  be  made  anxious  that  I  am  going  to 
publish  a  letter  on  your  "  Eirenicon."  I  wish  to  accept  it  as 
such,  and  shall  write  in  that  spirit.  And  I  write,  if  not  to 
hinder,  for  that  is  not  in  my  power,  but  to  balance  and 
neutralize  other  things  which  may  be  written  upon  it.  It 
will  not  be  any  great  length.  If  I  shall  say  anything  which 
is  in  the  way  of  remonstrance,  it  will  be  because,  unless  I 
were  perfectly  honest,  I  should  not  only  do  no  good,  but 
carry  no  one  with  me, — but  I  am  taking  the  greatest  possible 
pains  not  to  say  a  word  which  I  shall  be  sorry  for  afterwards.' 

At  starting  Newman  stamps  his  published  letter  to  Pusey 
as  a  work  of  apologetic  which  should  have  its  effect  in  leading 
to  conversions  to  the  Church.  Pusey's  influence  at  that 
moment  was  at  its  height.  His  words,  as  Newman  pointed 
out,  affected  large  multitudes.  Any  reply  which  made  him 
reconsider  his  position  would  affect  his  followers  also.^ 

'  '  Vou  cannot  speak  merely  for  yourself,'  he  wrote  :  'your  antecedents,  your 
existing  influence,  are  a  pledge  to  us  that  what  you  may  determine  will  be  the 
determination  of  a  multitude.  Numbers,  loo,  for  whom  you  cannot  properly  be 
said  to  speak,  will  be  moved  by  your  authority  or  your  arguments  ;  and  numbers, 
again,  who  are  of  a  school  more  recent  than  your  own,  and  who  are  only  not 
your  followers  because  they  have  outstripped  you  in  their  free  speeches  and 
demonstrative  acts  in  our  behalf,  will,  for  the  occasion,  accept  you  as  their 
spokesman.     There  is  no  one  anywhere, — among  ourselves,  in  your  own  body, 


THE   'EIRENICON'   (1865-1866)  103 

And  if  the  hope  of  a  large  accession  of  Puseyites  to 
the  Catholic  Church  appeared  quite  extravagant  to  some 
Catholics,  Newman  was  able  to  point  to  the  time  when  Dr. 
Wiseman  had  expressed  a  similar  hope  in  1843  in  respect 
of  the  old  Tractarian  party  and  Newman  himself,  and  had 
been  mercilessly  laughed  at  by  his  fellow-Catholics.  Yet 
the  events  of  1845  proved  that  Wiseman  was  right  and  the 
pessimists  wrong. 

Wiseman  had  treated  the  difficulties  of  the  Tractarians 
with  sympathy  and  consideration.  This  course  had  proved 
helpful  and  successful.  Hence  Newman  appealed  to 
Wiseman's  success  in  justification  of  his  own  similar  line  on 
the  present  occasion.  And  he  pointed  out,  moreover,  that  in 
disclaiming  excesses  in  devotional  language  concerning  the 
Blessed  Virgin,  he  was  making  no  new  attempt  to  minimise 
recognised  Catholic  devotions,  but  rather  following  in  the 
ancient  track  of  Catholic  practice  in  England,  which,  at  the 
time  of  his  own  conversion,  was  pointed  out  to  him  by  Dr. 
Griffiths,  the  Vicar- x^postolic  of  the  London  District.  For 
Dr.  Griffiths  strongly  objected  to  certain  foreign  '  Saints' 
Lives  '  and  devotional  works,  as  being  unsuitable  to  England. 

On  the  other  hand,  the  English  writers  to  whom  Pusey 
appealed  as  representing  the  extravagances  characteristic 
of  the  Church  of  Rome  were  not  the  hereditary  repre- 
sentatives of  the  Catholic  tradition,  but  Oxford  converts — 
Faber  and  W.  G.  Ward.  The  former  had  written  on 
devotion  to  Our  Lady,  the  latter  on  Papal  Infallibility,  in 
language  which  Pusey  cited  as  at  once  characteristic  of  the 
existing  Catholic  and  Roman  Church,  and  irrational  ; — as  on 
these  two  points  finally  barring  the  way  to  the  acceptance 
of  Roman  claims  among  English  Churchmen.  Of  the  fact 
that  they  were  converts,  comparatively  young,  and  innovators 
on  the  traditions  of  English  Catholicism,  while  the  typical 

or,  I  suppose,  in  the  Greek  Church,  who  can  affect  so  large  a  circle  (if  men,  so 
virtuous,  so  able,  so  learned,  so  zealous,  as  come,  more  or  less,  under  your 
influence  ;  and  I  cannot  pay  them  a  greater  compliment  than  to  tell  them  they 
ought  all  to  be  Catholics,  nor  do  them  a  more  affectionate  service  than  to  pray 
that  they  may  one  day  become  such.  Nor  can  I  address  myself  to  any  task  more 
pleasing,  as  I  trust,  to  the  Divhic  Lord  of  the  Cluirch,  or  more  loyal  or  dutiful 
to  His  Vicar  on  eartii,  than  to  attempt,  however  feebly,  to  promote  so  great  a 
consummation.' 


104  LIFE   OF   CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

English  hereditary  Catholics  had  ever  used  measured  language 
on  both  points,  Newman  made  great  capital.  He  signalised 
Faber's  gifts  as  a  poet,  and  Ward's  '  energy,  acuteness  and 
theological  reading,'  displayed  on  the  vantage  ground  of  the 
historic  Dublin  Rcvieiv,  but  added— 

'  They  are  in  no  sense  spokesmen  for  English  Catholics, 
and  they  must  not  stand  in  the  place  of  those  who  have  a 
real  title  to  such  an  office.  The  chief  authors  of  the  passing 
generation,  some  of  them  still  alive,  others  gone  to  their 
reward,  are  Cardinal  Wiseman,  Dr.  Ullathorne,  Dr.  Lingard, 
Mr.  Tierney,  Dr.  Oliver,  Dr.  Rock,  Dr.  Waterworth,  Dr. 
Husenbeth,  and  Mr.  Flanagan  ;  which  of  these  ecclesiastics 
has  said  anything  extreme  about  the  prerogatives  of  the 
Blessed  Virgin,  or  the  Infallibility  of  the  Pope? ' ' 

Newman  urged  two  points  in  his  letter  with  special 
insistence  :  (i)  that  the  recognised  Catholic  doctrine  and 
devotion  is  a  natural  and  lawful  development  from  beliefs 
already  visible  in  patristic  days  ;  (2)  that  the  undeniable 
extravagances  which  Pusey  cites  from  the  works  of  some 
foreign  divines  may  well  be  disavowed  by  any  Catholic — as 
Newman  himself  disowns  them — although  he  characteris- 
tically adds  that  he  knows  nothing  of  such  extravagances  as 
they  are  found  in  the  writings  of  the  authors  he  refers  to,  but 
only  as  they  stand  in  Pusey's  own  pages. 

That  Pusey's  idea  of  reunion  with  Rome  on  equal  terms  is 
Utopian  Newman  clearly  intimated — as  he  had  already  done 
in  his  private  letters.  Yet  he  believed  that  a  better  under- 
standing might  be  promoted  and  some  approximation  won 
by  the  attempt  on  either  side  to  do  justice  to  the  other  ;  and 
he  reproached  Pusey  with  speaking  of  an  '  Eirenicon '  and 
yet  fixing  attention  on  the  most  contentious  utterances  of 
Catholics.      '  There  was  one  of  old  times,'   he  w  rote,  *  who 

'  Some  thought  that  their  names  were  given  partly  in  irony.  Newman 
emphatically  disclaimed  this. 

'I  am  in  earnest  about  the  names  I  quoted,'  he  writes  to  II. Wilberforce. 
'  They  are  wiliiesses,  and  it  does  not  require  to  be  great  authors  in  order  to  witness 
well.  Ward  and  Faber,  as  well  as  myself,  never  had  a  course  of  theology.  I  at 
least  have  been  a  year  at  Rome.  Other  writers,  such  as  Allies,  also  are  not  theo- 
logians. The  ecclesiastics  I  named  have  been  in  seminaries.  Their  literary  merit 
may  not  be  high,  but  Lingard,  Rock,  Wiseman,  Tierney,  Oliver,  are  ihc/irsl  in 
their  lines.     I  might  say  more.' 


THE   'EIRENICON'   (1865-1866)  105 

wreathed  his  sword  in  myrtle  ;  excuse  me — you  discharge 
your  olive  branch  as  if  from  a  catapult.'  The  common 
ground  of  approximation  is  to  be  found  in  the  teaching 
Fathers  whom  both  sides  profess  to  accept.  To  realise  the 
patristic  teaching  and  sentiments  concerning  the  Blessed 
Virgin  is  to  go  far  on  the  road  towards  a  true  '  Eirenicon.' 

After  speaking  of  the  doctrine  defined  at  Ephesus  by  the 
term  Theotocos,  or  '  mother  of  God,'  he  wrote  as  follows  of 
the  prevalence  of  the  thought  it  expresses,  which  goes  back 
to  yet  earlier  days  : 

'  It  would  be  tedious  to  produce  the  passages  of  authors 
who,  using  or  not  using  the  term,  convey  the  idea.  "  Our 
God  was  carried  in  the  womb  of  Mary,"  says  Ignatius, 
who  was  martyred  A.D.  106.  "  The  Word  of  God,"  says 
Hippolytus,  "  was  carried  in  that  Virgin  frame."  "  The 
Maker  of  all,"  says  Amphilochius,  "is  born  of  a  Virgin." 
"  She  did  compass  without  circumscribing  the  Sun  of  Justice, 
— the  Everlasting  is  born,"  says  Chrysostom.  "God  dwelt 
in  the  womb,"  says  Proclus.  "  When  thou  hearest  that  God 
speaks  from  the  bush,"  asks  Theodotus,  "  in  the  bush  seest 
thou  not  the  Virgin  ?  "  Cassian  says :  '■  Mary  bore  her 
Author."  "  The  One  God  only  begotten,"  says  Hilary,  "  is 
introduced  into  the  womb  of  a  Virgin."  "  The  Everlasting," 
says  Ambrose,  "  came  into  the  Virgin."  "  The  closed  gate," 
says  Jerome,  "  by  which  alone  the  Lord  God  of  Israel  enters, 
is  the  Virgin  Mary."  "That  man  from  Heaven,"  says 
Capriolus,  "  is  God  conceived  in  the  womb."  "  He  is  made 
in  thee,"  says  St.  Augustine,  "  who  made  thee." 

'  This  being  the  faith  of  the  Fathers  about  the  Blessed 
Virgin,  we  need  not  wonder  that  it  should  in  no  long  time  be 
transmuted  into  devotion.  No  wonder  if  their  language  should 
become  unmeasured,  when  so  great  a  term  as  "  Mother  of 
God "  had  been  formally  set  down  as  the  .safe  limit  of 
it.  ;  .  .  Little  jealousy  was  shown  of  her  in  those  times  ; 
but,  when  any  such  niggardness  of  affection  occurred,  then 
one  Father  or  other  fell  upon  the  offender  with  /xal,  not 
to  say  with  fierceness.  Thus  St.  Jerome  inveighs  against 
Helvidius ;  thus  St.  E[)iphanius  denounces  Apollinaris, 
St.  Cyril  Nestorius,  and  St.  Ambrose  Bonosus  ;  on  the  other 
hand,  each  successive  insult  offered  to  her  by  individual 
adversaries  did  but  bring  out  more  fully  the  intimate 
sacred  affection  with  which  Christendom  regarded  her.'  ' 


-ts" 


'  LcUcr  to  Puscy,  Difficulties  0/ Anglicans, "n.  65,  66. 


io6  LIFE   OF   CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

With  regard  to  the  excesses  of  expression  among  Catholic 
writers  which  had  formed  the  most  effective  part  of  Pusey's 
indictment,  Newman  brought  to  bear  a  large  weight  of  theo- 
logical authority  on  the  lines  of  St.  Anselm's  affirmation 
'  that  the  Church  thinks  it  indecent  that  anything  that 
admits  of  doubt  should  be  said  in  Our  Lady's  praise  when 
things  that  are  certainly  true  of  her  supply  such  large 
materials  for  laudation.'      And  he  then  proceeded  : 

'  After  such  explanation,  and  with  such  authorities,  to 
clear  my  path,  I  put  away  from  me,  as  you  would  wish, 
without  any  hesitation,  as  matters  in  which  my  heart  and 
reason  have  no  part,  (when  taken  in  their  literal  and  absolute 
sense,  as  any  Protestant  would  naturally  take  them  and  as 
the  writers  doubtless  did  not  use  them),  such  sentences  and 
phrases  as  [you  quote].' 

After  enumerating,  one  after  another,  the  extreme  state- 
ments quoted  by  Pusey,^  he  thus  concluded  : 

'  Sentiments  such  as  these  I  freely  surrender  to  your 
animadversion  ;  I  never  knew  of  them  till  I  read  your  book, 
nor,  as  I  think,  do  the  vast  majority  of  English  Catholics 

'  The  statements  run  as  follows  :  '  That  the  mercy  of  Mary  is  infinite  ;  that 
God  has  resigned  into  her  hands  His  Omnipotence  ;  that  it  is  safer  to  seek  her 
than  to  seek  her  Son  ;  that  the  Blessed  Virgin  is  superior  to  God ;  that  Our 
Lord  is  subject  to  her  command  ;  that  His  present  disposition  towards  sinners, 
as  well  as  His  Father's,  is  to  reject  them,  while  the  Blessed  Mary  takes  His 
place  as  an  Advocate  with  Father  and  Son  ;  that  the  Saints  are  more  ready  to 
intercede  with  Jesus  than  Jesus  with  the  Father ;  that  Mary  is  the  only  refuge 
of  those  with  whom  God  is  angry ;  that  Mary  alonu  can  obtain  a  Protestant's 
conversion  ;  that  it  would  have  sufficed  for  the  salvation  of  men  if  Our  Lord 
had  died,  not  in  order  to  obey  His  Father,  but  to  defer  to  the  decree  of  His 
Mother  ;  that  she  rivals  Our  Lord  in  being  God's  daughter,  not  by  adoption, 
but  by  a  kind  of  nature  ;  that  Christ  fulfilled  the  office  of  Saviour  by  imitating 
her  virtues  ;  that,  as  the  Incarnate  God  bore  the  image  of  His  Father,  so  He 
bore  the  image  of  His  Mother  ;  that  redemption  derived  from  Christ  indeed  its 
sufficiency,  but  from  Mary  its  beauty  and  loveliness ;  that,  as  we  are  clothed 
with  the  merits  of  Christ,  so  we  are  clothed  with  the  merits  of  Mary  ;  that,  as 
He  is  Priest,  in  a  like  sense  is  she  Priestess ;  that  His  Body  and  Blood  in  the 
Eucharist  are  truly  hers  and  appertain  to  her  ;  that  as  He  is  present  and  received 
therein,  so  is  she  present  and  received  therein  ;  that  Priests  are  ministers  as  of 
Christ,  so  of  Mary  ;  that  elect  souls  are  born  of  God  and  Mary  ;  that  the  Holy 
Ghost  brings  into  fruitfulness  His  action  by  her,  producing  in  her  and  by  her 
Jesus  Christ  in  His  members ;  that  the  Kingdom  of  God  in  our  souls,  as  Our 
Lord  speaks,  is  really  the  kingdom  of  Mary  in  the  soul ;  that  she  and  the  Holy 
Ghost  produce  in  the  soul  extraordinary  things ;  and  that  when  the  Holy  Ghost 
finds  Mary  in  a  soul  He  flies  there'  (pp.  1 13-14). 


THE   'EIRENICON'    (1865-1866)  107 

know  them.  They  seem  to  me  like  a  bad  dream.  I  could 
not  have  conceived  them  to  be  said.  I  know  not  to  what 
authority  to  go  for  them  ;  to  Scripture,  or  to  the  Fathers,  or 
to  the  decrees  of  Councils,  or  to  the  consent  of  schools,  or  to 
the  tradition  of  the  faithful,  or  to  the  Holy  See,  or  to  Reason. 
They  defy  all  the  loci  theologici.  There  is  nothing  of  them  in 
the  Missal,  in  the  Roman  Catechism,  in  the  Roman  Raccolta, 
in  the  "  Imitation  of  Christ,"  in  Gother,  Challoner,  Milner,  or 
Wiseman,  as  far  as  I  am  aware.  They  do  but  scare  and  con- 
fuse me.  ...  I  do  not,  however,  speak  of  these  statements, 
as  they  are  found  in  their  authors,  for  I  know  nothing  of  the 
originals,  and  cannot  believe  that  they  have  meant  what  you 
say  ;  but  I  take  them  as  they  lie  in  your  pages.  Were  any 
of  them  the  sayings  of  Saints  in  ecstasy,  I  should  know  they 
had  a  good  meaning  ;  still  I  should  not  repeat  them  myself; 
but  I  am  looking  at  them,  not  as  spoken  by  the  tongues  of 
Angels,  but  according  to  that  literal  sense  which  they  bear 
in  the  mouths  of  English  men  and  English  women.  And, 
as  spoken  by  man  to  man,  in  England,  in  the  nineteenth 
century,  I  consider  them  calculated  to  prejudice  inquirers,  to 
frighten  the  unlearned,  to  unsettle  consciences,  to  provoke 
blasphemy,  and  to  work  the  loss  of  souls.'  ^ 

On  reaching  the  point  in  his  letter  at  which  W.  G.  Ward's 
views  concerning    Papal    Infallibility    would   naturally  have 
been  dealt  with,  Newman  breaks  off  and  postpones  the  subject 
to  another  occasion.     In  later  editions  he  speaks  of  Father 
Ryder's  pamphlets  in  reply  to  Ward,  published  in   1867,  as 
precluding  the  necessity  of  his  saying  more  himself     He  did 
return  to  the  question  ten  years  later  in  his  letter  to  the  Duke 
of  Norfolk.     But  Father  Neville  told  me  that,  when  writing 
the  letter  to  Pusey,  he  decided  after  much  thought  and  prayer 
that  it  was  not  wise  to  deal  at  that  moment  with  so  delicate 
and  burning  a  topic  as  the  Papal  claims.      In  his  criticism 
on  Fabcr  he  felt  fairly  certain  of  carrying  a  large  proportion 
of  English  Catholic  opinion  with  him.     The  other  case  was 
more  difficult  at  a  moment  when  the  troubles  of  the  Holy 
See  might  make  many  resent  a  dry  theological  analysis  of  the 
Papal  claims,  and  deprecate  a  protest  against  views  which,  it 
not  theologically  accurate,  were  nevertheless  inspired  by  that 
loyal  devotion  which  the  Holy  Father  so  greatly  needed.  He 
therefore  terminated  his  letter  as  follows  : 

'  Letters  to  Dr.  Yu'i^iy,  Dijjicidiies  of  Augiicaiis,\\.  115. 


io8  LIFE   OF  CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

'  So  far  concerning  the  Blessed  Virgin  ;  the  chief,  but 
not  the  only  subject  of  your  Volume,  And  now,  when  I 
could  wish  to  proceed,  she  seems  to  stop  all  controversy,  for 
the  Feast  of  her  Immaculate  Conception  is  upon  us  ;  and 
close  upon  its  Octave,  which  is  kept  with  special  solemnities 
in  the  Churches  of  this  town,  come  the  great  Antiphons, 
the  heralds  of  Christmas.  That  joyful  season,— joyful  for 
all  of  us, — while  it  centres  in  Him  Who  then  came  on  earth, 
also  brings  before  us  in  peculiar  prominence  that  Virgin 
Mother  who  bore  and  nursed  Him.  Here  she  is  not  in  the 
background,  as  at  Eastertide,  but  she  brings  Him  to  us  in 
her  arms,  Two  great  Festivals,  dedicated  to  her  honour, — 
to-morrow's  and  the  Purification, —  mark  out  and  keep  the 
ground,  and,  like  the  towers  of  David,  open  the  way  to  and 
fro,  for  the  high  holiday  season  of  the  Prince  of  Peace.  And 
all  along  it  her  image  is  upon  it,  such  as  we  see  it  in  the 
typical  representation  of  the  Catacombs.  May  the  sacred 
influences  of  this  tide  bring  us  all  together  in  unity.  May  it 
destroy  all  bitterness  on  your  side  and  ours  !  May  it  quench 
all  jealous,  sour,  proud,  fierce,  antagonism  on  our  side  ;  and 
dissipate  all  captious,  carping,  fastidious,  refinements  of 
reasoning  on  yours  !  May  that  bright  and  gentle  Lady, 
the  Blessed  Virgin  Mary,  overcome  you  with  her  sweetness, 
and  revenge  herself  on  her  foes  by  interceding  effectually  for 
their  conversion.' 

The  letter  to  Pusey  was  published  before  Christmas. 
Newman  was  fully  prepared  for  a  mixed  reception  of  it 
among  Catholics.  '  Don't  expect  much  from  my  pamphlet,' 
he  wrote  to  Miss  Bowles,  '  which  is  at  last  through  the  press. 
Pusey's  work  is  on  too  many  subjects,  not  to  allow  of  a  dozen 
answers,  and,  since  I  am  only  giving  one,  every  reader  will 
be  expecting  one  or  other  of  the  eleven  which  I  don't  give.' 

It  was  not  to  be  expected,  again,  that  Pusey's  emphatic 
challenge  to  the  school  of  Faber  and  Ward,  and  again  of 
Louis  Veuillot,  should  remain  unanswered.  Still,  W.  G. 
Ward,  Manning,  and  others,  had  necessarily  to  recognise  in 
their  own  answers  the  force  and  value  of  Newman's  main 
argument  against  Pusey.  The  very  fact  of  a  common 
cause,  which  enabled  Newman  indirectly  to  attack  the 
extremists,  made  it  difficult  for  them  to  reply  to  him.  On 
the  other  hand,  the  effect  of  the  '  Apologia '  was  again 
visible  among  the  English  public.     The  Press  signalised  the 


THE   'EIRENICON'  (1865-1866)  T09 

importance  of  an  utterance  from  Newman's  pen — according  it 
the  fullest  attention,  in  marked  contrast  to  the  almost  entire 
neglect  of  him  shown  for  twenty  years  since  the  publication 
of  the  '  Essay  on  Development,'  in  1846.  The  climax  was 
reached  in  the  long  article  of  seven  columns  which  appeared 
in  the  Times  of  March  31,  1866. 

An  article  of  such  length  in  the  Times  in  those  days 
proclaimed,  as  a  rule,  a  public  event  of  first-rate  national 
importance.  That  Newman's  brief  letter  to  Ur.  Pusey 
should  call  forth  a  review  nearly  as  long  as  itself,  was  an 
eloquent  comment  on  the  position  Newman  now  held  in  the 
public  mind  ;  and  to  the  initiated  who  knew  that  it  came 
from  the  pen  of  R.  W.  Church,  afterwards  Dean  of  St.  Paul's, 
this  fact  added  to  its  interest. 

The  writer  in  the  Times,  at  starting,  recognises  that  '  there 
is  only  one  person  on  the  Roman  Catholic  side  whose 
reflections '  on  Pusey 's  pamphlet  '  English  readers  in  general 
would  much  care  to  know,'  and  that  person  is  Dr.  Newman. 
He  notes  that  in  substance  Newman,  like  Manning  and 
other  Roman  Catholic  writers,  regards  Pusej^'s  ideas  as  im- 
practicable. But  he  notes,  too,  the  understanding  sympathy 
with  Pusey's  attitude  which  Newman  shows.  He  marks  the 
note  of  candour  which  renders  Newman  so  singularly 
persuasive,  '  the  English  habit  of  not  letting  off  the  blunders 
and  follies  of  his  own  side,  and  of  daring  to  think  that  a 
cause  is  better  served  by  outspoken  independence  of 
judgment  than  by  fulsome,  unmitigated  puffing.'  He  recog- 
nises in  particular  that  there  is  a  tendency  among  Roman 
Catholics  in  England,  showing  itself  largely  in  the  importa- 
tion of  '  foreign  ideas  and  foreign  usages,'  with  which  Newman 
strongly  disclaims  all  sympathy.  The  writer  cites  the  impres- 
sive passage  in  which  Newman  emphasises  what  he  calls 
*  fashions  '  in  Catholic  opinions,  and  in  which  he  intimates  that 
to  disagree  with  the  views  prevalent  within  the  Church  at  a 
particular  time  or  place  may  be  not  to  lack  Catholic  instinct, 
but  rather  to  show  a  fuller  acquaintance  with  the  length  and 
breadth  of  authorised  Catholic  theological  opinion,  and  with 
the  story  of  different  Pontificates.  If,  Newman  had  added, 
authority  is  seen  in  history  largely  to  consider,  in  its  deter- 
minations at  a  particular  time,  the  various  phases  of  Catholic 


no  LIFE   OF   CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

opinion  exhibited  at  that  time,  then  the  expression  of  opinion 
may  become  a  duty  on  the  part  of  individuals.  And  seeing 
the  traditionary  views  of  EngHsh  Cathoh'cism  falling  into 
the  background  in  favour  of  foreign  ideas  with  which  he  has 
small  sympathy,  he  had  felt  called  upon  to  express  his  own 
judgment,  lest  the  newer  habits  of  thought  might  appear  to 
outsiders  to  be  exclusively  those  which  the  Church  sanctions. 
He  had  claimed  the  right  '  to  speak  as  well  as  to  hear '  for 
one  who,  like  himself,  had  now  for  twenty  years  been  a 
Catholic  and  given  close  attention  to  the  different  phases  of 
Catholic  opinion. 

'  I  prefer  English  habits  of  belief  and  devotion  to  foreign,' 
Newman  had  written, '  from  the  same  causes  and  by  the  same 
right,  which  justifies  foreigners  in  preferring  their  own.  In 
following  those  of  my  people,  I  show  less  singularity \ind 
create  less  disturbance  than  if  I  made  a  flourish  with  what 
is  novel  and  exotic.  And  in  this  line  of  conduct  I  am  but 
availing  myself  of  the  teaching  which  I  fell  in  with  on 
becoming  a  Catholic  ;  and  it  is  a  pleasure  to  me  to  think 
that  what  I  hold  now,  and  would  transmit  after  me  if  I  could, 
is  only  what  I  received  then.' 

The  Times  writer  questions  the  accuracy  of  Newman's 
account  of  the  situation.  Over  against  his  contention  that 
the  views  dominant  within  the  Church  of  a  particular  time 
may  be  but  a  passing  and  accidental  fashion,  due  to  the 
character  of  the  particular  Pope  or  other  circumstances,  the 
Times  sets  Archbishop  Manning's  apparently  opposite  state- 
ment in  his  reply  to  Pusey,  that  the  Church  is  in  some  sense 
committed  to  them  by  the  very  fact  of  their  being  dominant 
and  unreproved.  The  careful  reader  will  see  that  there  is  in 
reality  no  marked  contradiction  between  the  two.  Manning 
had  not  claimed  more  than  immunity  from  the  censure  of 
private  Catholics  for  extreme  views  that  were  tolerated  by 
authorit)',  and  Newman  had  only  claimed  toleration  for 
those  less  extreme.  Manning  had  claimed,  as  more  than  the 
tenets  of  a  school,  only  what  Pontiffs  successively  witnessed. 
Newman  had  claimed  liberty  rather  where  they  diverged. 
But  the  tone  of  Manning's  words  told  for  dogmatism,  of 
Newman's  for  liberty.  And  the  writer  in  the  Times  went  on 
to  urge,  that  all  the  official  encouragement  of  the  Church 
was  given  to  the  views  of  Manning  ;    that    Papal    censures 


THE   'EIRENICON'    (1865-1866)  m 

were  reserved  for  'Liberalism,'  while  extreme  statements  as  to 
the  Papal  prerogatives  and  '  Mariolatry '  were  unreproved. 

*  Dr.  Newman  has  often  told  us,'  the  Times  continued, '  that 
we  must  take  the  consequences  of  our  principles  and  theories, 
and  here  are  some  of  the  consequences  which  meet  him  ; 
and,  as  he  says,  they  "  scare  and  confuse  him."  He  boldly 
disavows  them  with  no  doubtful  indignation.  But  what 
other  voice  but  his,  of  equal  authority  and  weight,  has  been 
lifted  up,  to  speak  the  plain  truth  about  them  ?  Why,  if 
they  are  wrong,  extravagant,  dangerous,  is  his  protest 
solitary?  His  communion  has  never  been  wanting  in 
jealousy  of  dangerous  doctrines,  and  it  is  vain  to  urge  that 
these  things,  and  things  like  them,  have  been  said  in  a 
corner.  The  Holy  Office  is  apt  to  detect  mischief  in  small 
writers  as  well  as  great,  even  if  these  teachers  were  as  in- 
significant as  Dr.  Newman  would  gladly  make  them.  Taken 
as  a  whole,  and  in  connection  with  notorious  facts,  these 
statements  are  fair  examples  of  manifest  tendencies,  which 
certainly  are  not  on  the  decline.  .  .  . 

'  Allocutions  and  Encyclicals  are  not  for  errors  of  this 
kind.  Dr.  Newman  says  that  "  it  is  wiser  for  the  most  part 
to  leave  these  excesses  to  the  gradual  operation  of  public 
opinion,— that  is,  to  the  opinion  of  educated  and  sober 
Catholics  ;  and  this  seems  to  me  the  healthiest  way  of 
putting  them  down."  We  quite  agree  with  him  ;  but  his 
own  Church  does  not  think  so  ;  and  we  want  to  see  some 
evidence  of  a  public  opinion  in  it  capable  of  putting  them 
down.  .  .  . 

'  It  is  very  little  use,  then,  for  Dr.  Newman  to  tell  Dr. 
Pusey  or  anyone  else,  "  You  may  safely  trust  us  English 
Catholics  as  to  this  devotion."  "  English  Catholics,"  as  such, 
— it  is  the  strength  and  the  weakness  of  their  system, — have 
really  the  least  to  say  in  the  matter.  The  question  is 
not  about  the  trusting  "  us  English  Catholics,"  but  the  Pope, 
and  the  Roman  congregations,  and  those  to  whom  the 
Roman  Authorities  delegate  their  sanction  and  give  their 
countenance.' 

In  brief,  the  writer  claims  that  it  is  Ward  and  Manning 
who  represent  the  effective  mind  of  the  ruling  power,  and  that 
it  is  with  them  that  Dr.  Pusey  and  his  friends  have  to  reckon. 
Newman  had  pointed  out  that  prevalent  excesses  were  no 
argument  against  the  'grand  faith  and  worship'  which  the 
Church  had    preserved.       But    the    writer    argues    that   the 


TI2  LIFE   OF   CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

admission  that  such  prevalent  excesses  were  deplorable  was 
not  effectively  made  among  Catholics  ;  that  the  tendency  of 
Manning  to  justify  what  is  unjustifiable,  on  the  sole  ground 
that  it  was  prevalent  and  not  condemned,  was  practically  the 
tendency  of  the  Catholic  Church  in  the  nineteenth  century. 

The  case  had  been  put  in  this  article  from  the  standpoint 
of  an  y\nglican.  Yet  the  article  was  welcome  to  Newman 
not  only  as  an  advertisement  of  his  book,  but  on  other 
grounds.  An  answer  to  the  writer  from  the  Catholic  stand- 
point was,  he  held,  easy  if  the  distinctions  recognised  by  the 
best  theologians  were  remembered.  An  answer  from  the 
standpoint  of  Ward  or  Veuillot,  or  even  Manning,  was  very 
difficult.  The  definitions  of  Faith,  and  their  Ipgical  conse- 
quences, could  be  maintained  with  controversial  success  as 
unalterable,  with  no  detriment  to  the  fact,  historically  incon- 
testable, that  opinions  not  really  true  might  be — nay,  have 
been — universally  accepted  in  the  Church  at  a  given  time. 
To  hold  with  Ward  that  such  prevalence  makes  them  part  of 
the  teaching  of  the  Church  was  to  go  in  the  face  of  history — 
it  was  to  justify  belief  in  the  '  Parousia '  or  the  '  Millennium,' 
on  the  early  universal  prevalence  of  which  among  Catholics 
Newman  had  so  often  insisted.  The  article  in  the  Times, 
then,  had  brought  out  a  very  important  issue,  and  had  at 
least  laid  stress  on  the  fact  that  opinions  which  Ward  and 
his  friends  constantly  represented  as  the  only  orthodox 
Catholic  opinions  were  challenged  by  Newman  ;  and  his 
challenge  remained  not  only  without  reproof,  but  received 
the  assent  of  others  well  equipped  to  speak  with  authority 
for  what  was  theologically  sound. 

At  the  same  time  messages  came  to  Newman  from  the 
Bishop  of  Birmingham  and  the  Bishop  of  Clifton,  identify- 
ing themselves  with  his  view  ;  and  a  similar  attitude  was, 
as  he  heard,  prevalent  in  the  majority  of  the  Episcopate. 
Ward's  party  and  Manning's  followers  in  London  were,  of 
course,  dissatisfied  with  the  letter  and  attacked  it  ;  but  the 
balance  of  opinion  was  in  its  favour. 

Newman's  faithful  friends  the  Dominican  sisters  at  Stone 
were  among  those  who  keenly  appreciated  the  letter,  and  he 
rejoiced  in  their  approval.  He  wrote  to  Sister  Imelda  on 
April  2  : 


THE    'EIRENICON'   {1865-1866)  113 

'  My  dear  Sister  Imelda, — Thank  you  for  your  welcome 
letter,  and  for  your  Reverend  Mother's  message.  And  I  am 
much  rejoiced  to  hear  so  good  an  account  of  her. 

'  One  can't  do  better  than  one's  best.  I  have  done  my 
very  best  in  my  Pamphlet— but  bad  is  the  best  I  daresay. 
Certainly,  we  may  say  of  our  Lady,  as  we  say  of  the  mystery 
of  the  Holy  Eucharist,  "  quia  major  omni  laude,  nee  laudare 
sufficit."  It  is  still  more  difficult  at  once  to  praise  her,  and 
to  dispraise  some  of  her  imprudent  votaries.  On  the  other 
hand  it  is  very  easy  to  criticize  what  we  should  not  do  a  bit 
better  if  we  ourselves  tried  our  hand  at  it.  Therefore  I  am 
not  surprised  that  I  am  open  to  criticism,  and  have  been 
criticized,  and  in  spite  of  that,  not  at  all  dissatisfied  on  the 
whole  with  what  I  have  done,  for  I  have  had  a  number  of 
letters  from  important  quarters,  all  in  my  favour.  One,  which 
is  the  most  gratifying  is  from  our  own  Bishop. 

'With  my  best  Easter  greetings  to  your  Reverend  Mother 
and  all  your  Community,  I  am 

'  My  dear  Sister  Imelda  most  sincerely  yours  in  Xt. 

John  H.  Newman 

of  the  Oratory.' 

To  Piisey  he  writes  on  the  general  situation  two  days 
after  the  appearance  of  the  Times  article  : 

'  Thank  you  for  your  sympathy  about  the  attacks  on  me, 
but  you  have  enough  upon  yourself  to  be  able  to  understand 
that  they  have  no  tendency  to  annoy  me, — and  on  the  other 
hand  are  a  proof  that  one  is  doing  a  work.  I  hail  the  Article 
in  the  Times  with  great  satisfaction  as  being  the  widest 
possible  advertisement  of  me.  I  never  should  be  surprised 
at  its  comments  being  sent  by  some  people  to  Rome,  as 
authoritative  explanations  of  my  meaning,  wherever  they  are 
favourable  to  mc.  The  truth  is,  that  certain  views  have  been 
suffered  without  a  word,  till  their  maintainers  have  begun  to 
fancy  that  they  are  de  fide,  —  2iX\d  they  are  astonished  and 
angry  beyond  measure  when  they  find  that  silence  on  the 
part  of  others  was  not  acquiescence,  indifference,  or  timidity, 
but  patience.  My  own  Bishop  and  Dr.  Clifford,  and,  I 
believe,  most  of  the  other  Bishops,  are  with  me.  And  I  have 
had  letters  from  the  most  important  centres  of  theology  and 
of  education  through  the  country,  taking  part  with  me. 
London,  however,  has  for  years  been  oppressed  with  various 
inacbi ;  though  I  cannot  forget,  with  great  gratitude,  that 
two  years  ago  as  many  as  a  hundred  and  ten  priests  of  the 
Westminster  Diocese,  including  all  the  Canons,  the  Vicars 
VOL.  II.  I 


114  LIFE   OF   CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

General,  the  Jesuits,  and  other  Orders,  went  out  of  their  way 
(and  were  the  first  to  do  so),  to  take  my  part  before  the 
"  Apologia  "  appeared. 

'  I  am  very  sorry  the  Jesuits  are  so  fierce  against  you. 
They  have  a  notion  that  you  are  not  exact  in  your  facts,  and 
it  has  put  their  backs  up  ;  but  we  arc  not  so  exact  ourselves 
as  to  be  able  safely  to  throw  stones.' 

While  Newman  loyally  defended  the  Jesuits  in  writing  to 
Pusey,  to  Father  Coleridge  himself  he  very  frankly  indicated 
in  an  interesting  letter  what  he  regarded  as  unfair,  or,  at 
least,  ungenerous,  in  the  treatment  of  the  controversy  in  the 
pages  of  the  Month  : 

'  As  to  Pusey,  I  fully  think  that  whatever  is  misrepresented 
in  facts  should  be  brought  out,  as  well  as  what  is  wrong  in 
theology.  But  ...  I  say  ..."  show  that  Pusey's  facts 
are  wrong,  but  don't  abuse  him."  Abuse  is  as  great  a  mistake 
in  controversy  as  panegyric  in  biography.  Of  course  a  man 
must  state  strongly  his  opinion,  but  that  is  not  personal 
vituperation.  Now  I  am  not  taking  the  liberty  of  accusing 
you  of  vituperation,  but  I  think  an  Anglican  would  say : 
"  This  writer  is  fierce — "  and  would  put  you  aside  in  con- 
sequence as  a  partisan.  He  would  shrink  into  his  prejudices 
instead  of  imbibing  confidence. 

'  Now  mind,  I  am  not  accusing  you  of  all  this  inaladresse, 
but  bringing  out  what  I  mean.  But  I  will  tell  you,  if  you 
will  bear  with  me,  what  does  seem  to  me  to  approach  to  it  in 
what  you  have  written,  e.g.' 

'I.  "The  great  name  of  Bossuet  has  been  foolishly 
invoked  by  Dr.  Pusey,"  p.  384. 

'  2.  "  There  can  be  no  more  mistake  about  the  fact  than 
about  the  impression  which  Dr.  Pusey  has  meant  to  produce 
on  his  readers,"  p.  387,  note. 

'  3.  "  How  does  this  .  .  .  differ  from  the  artifice  of  an 
unscrupulous  advocate'^  "  p.  388. 

'4.  "Great  confusion  of  thought,"  p.  388. 

'5.  "In  happy  unconsciousness  of  the  absurdity  of  his 
language,"  p.  389. 

'  6.  "  This  language  shows  as  much  confusion  or  ignorance, 
&c."  p.  389. 

'  7.  "  He  does  not  understand  that  .  .  .,"  p.  389. 

'  8.  "  He  talks  of  a  continual  flow,  &c."  p.  389. 

'9.  "  This  is  very  childish"  p.  389. 

'  The  references  are  to  the  article  '  Archbishop  Manning  on  the  Reunion  of 
Christendom,'  in  the  Month  for  April  1866. 


THE   'EIRENICON'   (1865-1866)  115 

'  10.  "  Dr.  Pusey  then  must  have  deliberately  ignored  the 
distinction,"  p.  389. 

'  It  must  be  recollected  that  your  object  is  to  convince 
those  who  respect  and  love  Dr.  Pusey  that  he  has  written 
hastily  and  rashly  and  gone  beyond  his  measure.  Now  if 
even  I  feel  pained  to  read  such  things  said  of  him,  what  do 
you  suppose  is  the  feeling  of  those  who  look  up  to  him  as 
their  guide?  They  are  as  indignant  at  finding  him  thus 
treated  as  you  are  for  his  treatment  of  Catholic  doctrine. 
They  close  their  ears  and  hearts.  Yet  these  are  the  very 
people  you  write  for.  You  don't  write  to  convince  the  good 
Fathers  at  No.  9,'  but  to  say  a  word  in  season  to  his  followers 
and  to  Jiis  friends — to  dispose  them  to  look  kindly  on 
Catholics  and  Catholic  doctrine, — to  entertain  the  possibility 
that  they  have  misjudged  us,  and  that  they  are  needlessly,  as 
well  as  dangerously,  keeping  away  from  us, — but  to  mix  up 
your  irrefutable  matter  with  a  personal  attack  on  Pusey,  is  as 
if  you  were  to  load  your  gun  carefully,  and  then  as  deliberately 
to  administer  some  drops  of  water  at  the  touch-hole. 

'  Now  excuse  me  for  all  this,  but  you  have  put  me  on  my 
defence  by  making  the  point  at  issue  whether  or  not  the 
"Papers  should  be  suffered  all  to  assume  that  his  statements 
are  founded  on  real  theological  knowledge — "  which  is  not  the 
issue. 

'  Very  sincerely  yours, 

John  H.  Newman.' 

Loyalty  to  his  friends  called  for  another  letter  in  connec- 
tion with  the  '  Eirenicon.'  Newman  had  expressed  to  Mr. 
Ambrose  de  Lisle  so  much  sympathy  with  his  attitude  towards 
the  Anglican  movement  that  he  felt  that  he  ought  to  make 
it  quite  clear  that  he  considered  his  scheme  of  '  corporate 
reunion  '  to  be  Utopian,  and  why  he  thought  so. 

'  I  find  it  very  difficult,'  he  writes  to  de  Lisle  on  March  3, 
1866,  'to  realise  such  an  idea  as  a  fact.  As  a  Protestant,  I 
never  could  get  myself  to  entertain  it  as  such,  nor  have  I  been 
able  as  a  Catholic.  Nothing  is  impossible  to  God,  and  the 
more  we  ask  of  Him,  the  more  we  gain — but  still.  His  indica- 
tions in  Providence  are  often  our  guide,  what  to  ask  and  what 
not  to  ask.  We  ask  what  is  probable ;  we  do  not  ask 
definitely  that  England  should  be  converted  in  a  day  ; — unless 
under  the  authority  of  a  particular  inspiration,  such  a  prayer 

'  No.  9  Hill  Street  (now  No.    1 6)  then  served  as  the  residence  of  the  Farm 
Street  community. 

13 


ii6  LIFE   OF  CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

would    be   presumptuous,   as   being  a  prayer  for  a  miracle. 
Now  to  me,  the  question  is  whether  the  conversion  of  that 
corporate  body,  which  we  call  the  Anglican  Church,  would 
not  be  in  the  same  general    sense  a  miracle, — in  the  same 
sense  in  which  it  would  be  a  miracle  for  the  Thames  to  change 
its  course,  and  run  into  the  sea  at  the  Wash  instead  of  the 
Nore.     Of  course  in  the  course  of  ages  such    a  change   of 
direction  might  take  place  without  miracle — by  the  stopping 
up  of  a  gorge  or  the  alteration  of  a  level.     But  I  should  not 
pray  for  it ;  and,  if  I  wished  to  divert  the  stream  from  London, 
I  should  cut  a  canal  at  Eton  or  Twickenham.     I  should  carry 
the  innumerable  drops  of  water  my  own  way  by  forming  a  new 
bed  by  my  own  labour — and  for  the  success  of  this   project 
I  might  reasonably  pray.     Now  the  Anglican  Church  is  sui 
generis — it  is  not  a  collection  of  individuals — but  it  is  a  bed, 
a  river  bed,  formed   in    the   course   of  ages,    depending   on 
external  facts,  such  as  political,  civil,  and  social  arrangements. 
Viewed  in  its  structure,  it  has  never  been  more  than  partially 
Catholic.     If  its  ritual  has  been  mainly  such,  yet  its  articles 
are  the  historical  offspring  of  Luther  and  Calvin.     And  its 
ecclesiastical  organisation  has  ever  been,  in  its  fundamental 
principles,  Erastian.    To  make  that  actual  and  visible,  tangi- 
ble body  Catholic,  would  be  simply  to  make  a  new  creature 
—  it  would   be  to  turn  a  panther  into   a  hind.     There  are 
very  great  similarities  between  a  panther  and  a  hind.     Still 
they  are  possessed  of  separate  natures,  and  a  change  from  one 
to  the  other  would  be  a  destruction  and  reproduction,  not 
a  process.     It  could  be  done  without  a  miracle  in  a  succession 
of  ages,  but  in  any  assignable  period,  no. 

'  See  what  would  be  needed  to  bring  the  Anglican  Church 
into  a  condition  capable  of  union  with  the  Catholic  body. 
There  have  ever  been  three  great  parties  in  it.  The  rod  of 
Aaron  (so  to  call  it)  must  swallow  up  the  serpents  of  the 
magicians.  Thar  tod  has  grown  of  late  years — doubtless — 
but  the  history  of  opinion,  and  of  Anglican  opinion,  has 
ever  been  a  course  of  reactions.  Look  at  ourselves, 
truths  de  fide  are  unchangeable  and  indefectible,  but 
you  yourself  were  lately  predicting,  and  with  reason,  a  re- 
action among  us  from  Ultramontanism.  The  chance  is, 
humanly  speaking,  that  the  Catholic  movement  in  the 
Anglican  Church,  being  itself  a  reaction,  will  meet  with  a 
re-reaction — but  suppose  it  does  not.  Then  it  has  to  absorb 
into  itself  the  Evangelical  and  the  Liberal  parties.  When  it 
has  done  this,  the  Erastian  party,  which  embraces  all  three, 
and  against  which  there  is  no  reaction  at  present,  which  ever 


THE   'EIRENICON'  (1865-1866)  117 

has  been,  which  is  'Cao^  foundation  of  Anglicanism,  must  begin 
to  change  itself.  I  say  all  parties  ever  have  been  Erastian. 
Archbishop  Whitgift,  a  Calvinist,  was  as  Erastian,  as  much 
opposed  to  the  Puritans,  as  Laud  was.  And  Hoadly,  the 
representative  of  the  Liberals,  was  of  course  emphatically  an 
Erastian.  But  let  us  keep  to  the  Catholic  party.  They  were 
Erastian  in  Laud,  they  are  Erastian  in  their  most  advanced 
phase  now.  What  is  the  rejection  of  Gladstone  at  Oxford, 
what  is  the  glorification  of  that  angel  Disraeli,  but  an  Erastian 
policy  .''  and  who  are  specially  the  promoters  of  it  but  the 
Union  Review  and  the  party  it  represents  .'' 

'  When  then  I  come  to  consider  the  possibility  of  the 
Established  Church  becoming  capable  of  Catholicism,  I  must 
suppose  its  Evangelical  party  adding  to  its  tenets  th 
Puritanism  of  Cartwright  as  well  as  disowning  at  the  same 
time  its  own  and  Cartwright's  Protestantism  ; — I  must 
suppose  the  Catholic  party  recalling  the  poor  Non-jurors 
and  accepting  their  anti-Erastianism,  while  preserving  and 
perfecting  its  own  orthodoxy — and  the  Liberal  party  denying 
that  Royal  supremacy  which  is  the  boast  of  members  of  it, 
as  different  from  each  other  in  opinion  as  Tillotson,  Arnold 
and  Colenso.  I  must  anticipate  the  Catholic  party,  first 
beating  two  foes,  each  as  strong  as  itself,  and  then  taking  the 
new  step,  never  yet  dreamed  of  except  by  the  Non -jurors, 
who  in  consequence  left  it,  and  by  the  first  authors  of  the 
Tracts  [for  the]  Times,  the  new  step  of  throwing  off  the 
Supremacy  of  the  State. 

'Then  comes  a  question,  involved  indeed,  but  not  brought 
out  clearly,  in  what  I  have  been  saying.  Who  are  meant  by 
the  members  of  each  party,  the  clergy  only  or  the  laity  also  ? 
It  is  a  miracle,  if  the  "  Catholic  "  clergy  in  the  Establishment 
manage  to  swallow  up  the  Evangelical  and  Liberal — but  how 
much  more  difficult  an  idea  is  it  to  contemplate,  that  they 
should  absorb  the  whole  laity  of  their  communion,  of  whom, 
but  a  fraction  is  with  them,  a  great  portion  Evangelical,  a 
greater  Liberal,  and  a  still  greater,  alas,  without  any  faith  at  all. 
I  do  not  sec,  moreover,  how  it  is  possible  to  forget  that  the 
Established  Church  is  the  Church  o{ England — that  Dissenters 
are,  both  in  their  own  estimation  and  in  that  of  its  own 
members,  in  some  sense  a  portion  of  it — and  that,  even  were 
its  whole  proper  laity  Catholic  in  opinions,  the  whole  popu- 
lation of  England,  of  which  Dissenters  are  nearly  half,  would, 
as  represented  by  Parliament,  claim  it  as  their  own. 

'  And  of  course,  when  it  came  to  the  point,  they  would 
have    fact  and  power  on    their  side.     It    is  indeed    hard  to 


ii8  LIFE   OF  CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

conceive  that  the  constitution  of  the  Church  of  England,  as 
settled  by  Act  of  Parliament,  can  be  made  fit  for  re-union 
with  the  Catholic  Church,  till  political  parties,  as  such,  till  the 
great  interests  of  the  nation,  the  country  party,  the  manu- 
facturing, the  trade,  become  Catholic,  as  parties.  Before  that 
takes  place,  and  sooner  than  it  will,  as  it  seems  to  me,  the 
Establishment  will  cease  to  be,  in  consequence  of  the  Free 
Church  and  voluntary  principle  and  movement.  So  that  from 
my  point  of  view,  I  cannot  conceive,  to  end  as  I  began,  the 
Establishment  running  into  Catholicism,  more  than  I  can 
conceive  the  Thames  running  into  the  Wash. 

'  And  now  excuse  me,  if  I  have  been  at  all  free  ;  but,  since 
you  seemed  to  wish  to  know  what  I  think  on  so  momentous 
a  subject,  and  it  seems  to  be  a  time  when  we  shall  all  arrive 
best  at  what  is  true  and  expedient,  and  at  unanimity  and 
unity,  by  speaking  out,  I  have  thought  I  might  throw  myself 
on  your  indulgence,  even  in  such  respects  as  I  fear  will  not 
commend  themselves  to  your  judgment' 

Theology  was  not  the  only  matter  which  engaged 
Newman's  attention  at  this  time.  He  wrote  frequently  to 
Frederick  Rogers  and  R.  W,  Church  on  questions  of  cur- 
rent interest.  Rogers  sent  him  in  April  1866  Seeley's  work 
entitled  '  Ecce  Homo,'  which  made  a  great  stir  on  its  ap- 
pearance. Newman  did  not  at  first  see  much  in  the  book. 
He  found  '  little  new  in  it  but  what  was  questionable  or 
fanciful,'  but  in  view  of  Rogers'  estimate  of  its  great  impor- 
tance as  a  sign  of  the  times,  he  wrote  an  appreciative  review 
of  it  in  the  Month. 

From  his  letters  on  the  politics  of  the  time,  two  may  be 
quoted — one  on  the  Franco-Prussian  War  and  one,  in  the 
following  year,  on  the  murder  of  Emperor  Maximilian.  In 
both  these  letters,  addressed  to  R.  W.  Church,  we  have  his 
thoughts  on  the  future  of  his  own  country.  Ever  since  the 
Reform  Bill  of  1832  he  had  viewed  with  great  misgiving  the 
extension  of  the  suffrage  and  the  growth  of  the  democracy. 
*  The  only  defence  of  or  consolation  under  Reform,'  he  writes 
to  Rogers,  '  is  that  power  itself  will  have  a  sober  and  educa- 
tional effect  on  the  new  voters.  The  other  consolation  is 
that  it  will  only  increase  bribery  immoderately.'  England's 
international  position  also  appeared  to  him  at  this  time  very 
unsatisfactory.  Still  he  had  a  great  belief  in  the  genius  of 
his  country  and  her  power  to  recover. 


THE   'EIRENICON'   (1865-1866)  119 

To  R.  VV.  Church. 

'The  Oratory,   B"  :  Sept^  21,  1866. 

'  What  wonderful  events  have  taken  place  lately  !  quite  a 
new  world  is  coming  in  ;  and  if  Louis  Napoleon  were  to  fall 
ill,  the  catastrophe  would  be  still  more  wonderful.  I  don't 
quite  like  our  being  thrown  so  much  into  the  background. 
Twenty-five  years  ago  Rogers  said  one  ought  to  go  abroad 
to  know  how  great  England  was — it  is  not  so  now — some 
foreign  papers  simply  leave  out  the  heading  "  Angleterre"  in 
their  foreign  news.  And  the  fate  of  Austria,  a  state  in  some 
striking  points  like  us,  though  in  others  different,  is  a  sort  of 
omen  of  what  might  happen  to  us  in  the  future.  Then,  I  am 
quite  ashamed  at  the  past  ignorance  of  the  Times  and 
other  papers  and  at  myself  for  having  been  so  taken  in  by 
them.  Think  of  the  Times  during  the  American  civil 
war !  And  again  on  the  breaking  out,  and  in  the  course  of 
the  Danish  War.  Really  we  are  simply  in  the  dark  as  to 
what  is  going  on  beyond  our  four  seas — even  if  we  know 
what  is  going  on  within  them.  How  dark,  as  even  I  could 
see,  we  are  as  to  Ireland,  from  having  been  there.  Some 
four  years  ago  I  met  a  man,  he  seemed  some  sort  of  country 
gentleman,  at  the  inn  of  a  country  town — we  got  into  con- 
versation. I  told  him  the  hatred  felt  for  England  in  all 
ranks  in  Ireland — how  great  friends  of  mine  did  not  scruple 
to  speak  to  me  of  the  "bloody  English "— the  common 
phrase — how  cautious  and  quiet  government  people  simply 
confessed  they  would  gladly  show  their  teeth  if  they 
were  sure  of  biting ;  but  he  would  not  believe  me — and 
that  has  been  the  state  of  the  mass  of  our  people.  Even 
now  they  are  slow  to  believe  that  Fenian  ism  is  as  deeply 
rooted  as  it  is.  Every  Irishman  is  but  watching  his  op- 
portunity—and if  he  is  friendly  to  this  country,  it  is  because 
he  despairs. 

'  Don't  think  I  am  tempted  to  despair  about  England. 
I  am  in  as  little  despair  about  England  as  about  the  Pope, 
I  think  they  have  both  enormous  latent  forces  ;  and  if,  as  they 
now  talk,  he  goes  to  Malta,  I  shall  think  it  is  caused  by  some 
hidden  sympathy  of  position.  Misery  does  indeed  make  us 
acquainted  with  strange  bedfellows.  And,  whatever  the 
Pope  will  have  to  do,  at  least  England  must  make  some 
great  changes,  and  give  up  many  cherished  ways  of  going 
on,  if  she  is  to  keep  her  place  in  the  world. 

'  However,  much  all  this  is  to  an  old  man  like  me.' 


I20  LIFE   OF   CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

To  THE  Same. 

'The  Oratory,  B™  :  July  7,  1867. 

'Your  violin  improves  continually;  I  cannot  desire  a 
better  one.  I  have  got  it  at  Rednal,  where  I  make  a  noise, 
without  remonstrance  from  trees,  grass,  roses  or  cabbages.   .   . 

'  Maximilian's  death  is  the  deepest  tragedy  in  our  day, 
the  deeper  because  it  has  so  little  romantic  about  it — it  is 
the  case  of  a  lion  poisoned  by  a  ratcatcher — or  "a  falcon, 
towering  in  her  pride  of  place,  and  by  a  mousing  owl 
hawked  at  and  killed."  There  is  a  kind  of  death  which  seems, 
not  a  martyrdom,  but  a  failure.  Max's  course  in  Mexico 
is  not  a  career.  He  has  left  Europe  and  vanished  into 
space  ;  and  is  of  those  "  which  have  no  memorial,  who  have 
perished  as  tho'  they  had  never  been  " ;  and  his  "  empire  " 
after  him.     And  this  is  most  tragic. 

'  As  to  Parliamentary  proceedings,  it  is  a  crucial  experi- 
ment whether  England  is  stronger  in  its  social  or  its  political 
system.  If  the  social  framework  can  withstand  and  master 
such  political  changes  it  is  strong  indeed.' 


CHAPTER   XXIV 

OXFORD    AGAIN    (  I  866- 1  867) 

The  renewed  signs  of  Newman's  great  influence  on  the 
public  mind  in  England,  brought  forth  by  the  letter  to 
Pusey,  were  not  lost  on  the  Ecclesiastical  Authorities.  Such 
signs  gave  his  friends  courage ;  they  made  his  critics  feel  the 
impolicy  of  weakening  the  authority  of  so  powerful  a  cham- 
pion of  the  Catholic  cause.  Manning  was  endeavouring  to 
strengthen  his  position  as  Archbishop  by  conciliatory  action, 
and  was  not  likely  to  oppose  him  openly.  Catholic  boys 
were  still  going  to  Oxford,  and  Newman  bought  fresh  land 
there,  with  an  eye  to  future  possibilities.  Then  he  was  again 
offered  the  Oxford  Mission  by  his  Bishop  in  April  1866,  He 
saw  in  the  renewed  offer  a  sign  of  God's  Will  for  him.  Yet 
the  following  letter  of  April  29  to  Dr.  Pusey  shows  that  he 
viewed  the  prospect  with  mixed  feelings  : 

'  I  am  grieved  to  think  it  vexes  you  so  much  to  hear  of 
the  chance  of  our  going  to  Oxford.  You  may  be  sure 
we  should  not  go  to  put  ourselves  in  opposition  to  you,  or 
to  come  in  collision  with  the  theological  views  which  you 
represent.  Of  course  we  never  could  conceal  our  con- 
victions, nor  is  it  possible  to  control  the  action  of  great 
principles  when  they  are  thrown  upon  the  face  of  society — 
but  it  would  be  a  real  advantage  to  the  cause  of  truth,  if  our 
opinions  were  known  more  accurately  than  they  are  generally 
known  by  Anglicans.  For  instance,  what  surprise  has  been 
expressed  at  what  I  have  said  in  my  letter  to  you  about 
our  doctrine  of  original  sin  and  the  Immaculate  Conception  ! 
even  now  most  men  think  that  I  have  not  stated  them 
fairly.  And  so  with  many  other  doctrines.  I  should 
come  to  Oxford  for  the  sake  of  the  Catholic  youth  there, 
who  are  likely  to  be,  in  the  future,  more  numerous  than 
they  are  now, — and  my  first  object  after  that  would  be  to 
soften  prejudice  against  Catholicism  by  showing  how  much 


122  LIFE   OF  CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

exaggeration  is  used  by  Anglicans  in  speaking  of  it.  1  do 
trust  you  will  take  a  more  hopeful  view  of  my  coming,  if  I  do 
come,  which  is  not  certain.  Personally,  it  would  be  as  pain- 
ful a  step  as  I  could  be  called  upon  to  make.  Oxford  never 
can  be  to  me  what  it  was.  It  and  I  are  sev^ered.  It  would 
be  like  the  dead  visiting  the  dead.  I  should  be  a  stranger  in 
my  dearest  home.  I  look  forward  to  it  with  great  distress — 
and  certainly  would  not  contemplate  it  except  under  an 
imperative  call  of  duty.  But  I  trust  that  God  will  strengthen 
me,  when  the  time  comes,  if  it  is  to  come— and  I  trust 
He  will  strengthen  you.' 

Newman  hoped  that  the  success  of  the  '  Apologia,'  now 
reinforced  by  that  of  the  '  Letter  to  Pusey,'  would  this  time 
give  him  enough  influence  to  carry  out  the  Oxford  plan. 
The  sanction  of  Propaganda  was  sought  for  the  formation  of 
a  branch  house  of  the  Oratory  at  Oxford.  All  seemed  for  a 
time  to  go  without  a  hitch.  There  were,  however,  incidents 
in  the  negotiations  with  Rome  which  depressed  him.  Cardinal 
Reisach,  whom  Newman  had  known  in  Rome,  came  to  Eng- 
land with  a  view  to  ascertaining  the  general  feeling  on  the 
Oxford  question,  and  Newman  was  never  approached  by  him 
and  never  even  acquainted  with  his  mission.  The  Cardinal 
actually  visited  Oscott  without  letting  Newman  know  that  he 
was  near  Birmingham,  or  calling  on  him.  Cardinal  Reisach's 
informants  among  the  clergy  were  carefully  selected  by 
Manning  himself,  and  the  Cardinal  was  sent  to  pay  a  visit 
to  W.  G.  Ward,  as  the  best  representative  of  lay  opinion. 
The  Cardinal  even  inspected  the  new  ground  Newman  had 
bought  at  Oxford,  but  without  making  any  sign  to  its  owner. 
Newman  deplored  the  incident  deeply,  and  felt  that  no  oppor- 
tunity was  afforded  him  for  making  Rome  acquainted  at  first 
hand  with  his  views  on  the  whole  subject.  His  dejection  was 
less  keen  at  this  time,  however,  as  he  expressly  states  in  his 
journal,  than  in  the  years  preceding  the  '  Apologia,'  and 
the  Oxford  proposal  brought  with  it  a  ray  of  hope.  It  was 
a  hope  for  work  within  his  capacity,  and  in  the  right  direction. 
It  would  mean  fresh  anxieties.  Still,  it  would  be  something 
practicable  and  useful. 

As  to  writing  he  was  still  very  cautious.  Some  of 
his  friends  urged  him  to  write  more,  and  more  explicitly, 
on    the    whole    ecclesiastical    situation,  and    others    pressed 


OXFORD   AGAIN   (1866-1867)  123 

him  to  go  in  person  to  Rome,  and  lay  before  the  Holy 
Father  his  views  on  the  Oxford  question  and  other  matters 
relating  to  the  progress  of  the  Church  in  England.  But 
Newman,  while  loving  and  revering  Pius  IX.,  felt  hope- 
less of  making  any  great  impression  at  headquarters  while 
Manning  was  against  him  and  while  the  Curia  was  without 
any  first-hand  knowledge  of  the  situation.  And  as  to  writing, 
he  was  inclined  to  let  well  alone,  and  be  content  with  the  good 
results  of  the  '  Apologia  '  and  '  Letter  to  Dr.  Pusey.' 

He  preferred  not  to  force  matters  to  an  issue,  but  rather 
to  maintain  his  hold  on  Catholic  opinion  and  act  on  the 
public  mind  gradually.  The  logic  of  facts  must  be  given 
time  to  work  in  the  desired  direction.  He  had  the  sympathy 
of  such  men  as  Dupanloup  in  France,  and  in  England  a 
considerable  measure  of  agreement  and  support  from  Bishop 
Ullathorne,  Bishop  Clifford,  and  others.  The  English  Jesuits, 
largely  owing  to  the  influence  of  Father  Coleridge,  were  ever 
his  good  friends.  And  the  '  Letter  to  Dr.  Pusey '  had  brought 
fresh  and  more  general  manifestations  of  sympathy.  Even  as 
to  the  stringent  line  in  matters  of  doctrine  and  philosophy, 
to  which  Rome  had  inclined  since  the  Temporal  Power  con- 
troversy began,  there  were  reassuring  signs.  The  Episcopate 
(he  learnt)  had  considerably  modified  the  Syllabus  before 
its  appearance.  Some  of  the  Bishops,  moreover,  were,  he 
found,  quite  alive  to  the  dangers  attendant  on  checking 
genuine  philosophical  thought  by  stringent  condemnations. 
His  consistent  reply  to  those  who  urged  him  to  do  more  in 
the  way  of  active  expression  of  opinion  or  representations 
to  the  Holy  See  was  '  Patience ;  we  are  in  a  transition 
time.'  He  trusted  to  the  logic  of  facts — a  slow  remedy, 
but  the  only  one  consistent  with  the  absolute  submission 
which  he  preached  and  practised. 

The  following  letters  illustrate  his  state  of  mind  in  the 
years  1865  and  1866: 

To  Father  Ambrose  St.  John. 

'August  27th,  1865. 

'  The  Bishop  was  here  yesterday.  He  asked  me  if  I  still 
thought  of  Oxford.  I  said  absolutely,  no.  I  added  that  I 
had  bought  some  land,  but  for  the  chances  of  the  future,  not 


124  LIFE   OF  CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

as  connected  with  myself.  He  said  he  had  heard  so.  Well, 
for  the  chance  of  things,  he  said,  he  should  keep  the  matter 
open  for  a  year. 

'  He  said  the  Cardinal  Barnabo  had  told  the  Archbishop 
that  there  would  be  a  great  meeting  next  year  ;  time  and 
subject  uncertain.  The  Bishop  said  there  was  a  great  deal 
to  do  in  the  way  of  discipline,  e.g.  about  nuns,  parishes, 
&c.  He  hoped  they  would  be  cautious  about  touching 
philosophy, — the  Pope,  he  said,  had  some  wish  for  one  or  two 
doctrinal  decrees,  but  he  spoke  as  if  others  did  not  share  in 
it — said  he  was  sure  the  Bishops'  voice  would  be  heard — ■ 
implied  that  the  actual  Syllabus  was  a  great  improvement  on 
what  it  was  to  have  been  before  the  Bishops  took  it  in  hand 
a  year  or  two  previous  to  its  publication. 

'  I  wonder  what  the  Pope's  doctrinal  points  are.  The 
Bishop  spoke  of  a  meeting  like  that  for  the  Immaculate 
Conception,  which  would  be  a  serious  thing,  as  being  so 
unusual.' 

To  Miss  Bowles. 

'January  3rd,  1866. 

' .  .  .  When  I  published  my  letter  to  Pusey  [Manning] 
sent  two  letters  praising — but  a  little  while  after  he  sent  two 
Bishops  an  article  (in  print)  which  was  to  appear  in  the 
Dubliyi  against  portions  of  it,  asking  their  sanction  to  it. 
The  one  replied  that,  so  far  from  agreeing  with  the  article,  he 
heartily  agreed  with  me, — the  other  that,  since  he  was  my 
natural  judge  he  would  not  commit  himself  by  any  previous 
extra-judicial  opinion,  and  on  the  contrary,  if  the  article  was 
published,  he  should  recommend  me  to  commence  ecclesias- 
tical proceedings  against  the  editor,  in  that  he,  a  layman,  had 
ventured  seriously  to  censure  a  priest.  TJiis  was  the  cause  of 
two  episcopal  letters  in  the  Tablet  .  .  . 

'  Dr.  F.'s  letter  is  inost  kind,  and  pray  return  him  my  hearty 
thanks,  saying  that  I  have  seen  his  letter.  Such  words  as  his 
are  words  to  rest  upon,  and  thank  God  for.  It  has  been  my 
lot,  since  I  was  a  Catholic,  to  find  few  hearts  among  my  own 
friends  to  shew  any  kindness  to  me.  .  .  .  Our  Bishop  said 
to  me  that  he  considered  I  was  under  a  "  dispensation  of 
mortifications  " — and,  in  truth,  since  the  Holy  Father  first  in 
his  kindness  called  me  to  Rome,  I  don't  think  I  have  had 
one  single  encouragement.  During  my  stay  there  in  1846-7 
he  used  some  words  of  blame  on  a  sermon  which  I  preached 
there  (much  against  my  will)  and  which  was  reported  to  him 
as  severe  on  Protestant  visitors.  In  1859  he  sent  me  a 
message  of  serious  rebuke — (you  are  the  first  person  anywhere 


OXFORD  AGAIN   (1866-1867)  125 

to  whom  I  have  told  this)  Mgr.  Barnabo  told  it  our  Bishop, 
our  Bishop,  Father  St.  John,  and  he  to  me,  I  have  not  told  it 
to  our  own  Fathers — apropos  of  some  words  I  used  in  the 
Rambler  which  certainly  might  have  been  better  chosen,  but 
which  had  really  a  right  meaning  which  I  could  have  explained. 
What  encouragement  then  have  I  to  go  to  Rome  or  preach 
at  Rome,  being  so  little  able  to  express  myself  in  Italian, 
and  so  certain  to  be  ill  reported  by  those  who  ought  to  be 
my  friends  ?  Mgr.  Talbot  took  part  with  Faber  and  treated 
me  most  inconsiderately,  and  on  that  occasion  the  Pope 
alone  stood  my  friend,  and  I  think  he  would  alv/ays  do  so  if 
he  were  suffered. 

'  Well,  quite  synchronously  with  Faber's  death,  this  other 
opposition  arose.  I  think  this  of  him  (Manning) :  he  wishes 
me  no  ill,  but  he  is  determined  to  bend  or  break  all  opposi- 
tion. He  has  an  iron  will  and  resolves  to  have  his  own  way. 
On  his  promotion  he  wished  to  make  me  a  Bishop  in  partibtis. 
I  declined.  I  wish  to  have  my  own  true  liberty  ;  it  would 
have  been  a  very  false  step  on  my  part  to  have  accepted  it. 
He  wanted  to  gain  me  over.  He  has  never  offered  me  any 
place  or  office.  The  only  one  I  am  fit  for,  the  only  one  I 
would  accept,  a  place  at  Oxford,  he  is  doing  all  he  can  to 
keep  me  from.  I  have  no  heart  or  strength  to  do  anything 
at  Rome  as  you  propose.  I  am  not  better  than  St.  Basil, 
and  St.  Thomas  of  Canterbury,  St.  Joseph  Calasanctius,  or 
St.  Alfonso  Liguori.  The  truth  will  come  out  when  I  am 
gone  hence.' 

To  THE  Same, 

'April  i6th,  1866, 

•  •••••« 

'  As  to  myself,  you  don't  consider  that  I  am  an  old  man 
and  must  husband  my  strength.  When  I  passed  my  letter 
(to  Pusey)  through  the  Press  and  wrote  my  notes,  I  was  con- 
fined to  my  bed,  or  barely  sitting  up.  I  had  a  most  serious 
attack— it  might  have  been  far  worse.  I  did  not  know  how 
much  worse  till  (through  God's  mercy)  it  was  all  over.  It 
would  have  been  very  imprudent  to  have  done  more.  Nor 
would  I  write  now,  hastily.  I  should  have  much  to  read  for 
it.  Recollect,  to  write  theology  is  like  dancing  on  the  tight 
rope  some  hundred  feet  above  the  ground.  It  is  hard  to  keep 
from  falling,  and  the  fall  is  great.  Ladies  can't  be  in  the 
position  to  try.  The  questions  are  so  subtle,  the  distinctions 
so  fine,  and  critical,  jealous  eyes  so  many.  Such  critics  would 
be  worth  nothing,  if  they  had  not  the  power  of  writing  to 
Rome  now  that  communication  is  made  so  easy, — and  you 


126  LIFE   OF   CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

may  get  into  hot  water  before  you  know  where  you  are.  The 
necessity  of  defending  myself  at  Rome  would  almost  kill  me 
with  the  fidget.  You  don't  know  me  when  you  suppose  I 
"  take  heed  of  the  motley  flock  of  fools."  No, — it  is  authority 
that  I  fear.  "  Di  me  terrent,  et  Jupiter  hostis."  I  have  had  great 
work  to  write  even  what  I  have  written,  and  I  ought  to  be 
most  deeply  thankful  that  I  have  so  wonderfully  succeeded. 
Two  Bishops,  one  my  own,  have  spontaneously  and  gener- 
ously come  forward.  Why  cannot  you  believe  that  letter 
of  mine,  in  which  I  said  I  did  not  write  more  because  I  was 
"  tired  "  ?  This  was  the  real  reason.  Then  others  came  in. 
The  subject  I  had  to  write  upon  ^  opened,  and  I  found  I  had 
a  great  deal  to  read  before  I  could  write.  Next,  I  felt  I  had 
irritated  many  good  people,  and  I  wished  the  waves  to  sub- 
side before  I  began  to  play  the  Aeolus  a  second  time.  More- 
over, I  was  intending  to  make  a  great  change.  I  thought  at 
length  my  time  had  come.  I  had  introduced  the  narrow  end 
of  the  wedge,  and  made  a  split.  I  feared  it  would  split 
fiercely  and  irregularly,  and  I  thought  by  withdrawing  the 
wedge  the  split  might  be  left  at  present  more  naturally  to 
increase  itself.  Everything  I  see  confirms  me  in  my  view.  I 
have  various  letters  from  all  parts  of  the  country  approving 
of  what  I  have  already  done.  The  less  I  do  myself,  the  more 
others  will  do.  It  is  not  well  to  put  oneself  too  forward. 
Englishmen  don't  like  to  be  driven.  I  am  sure  it  is  good 
policy  to  be  quiet  just  now. 

'  I  have  long  said  :  "  the  night  cometh,"  &c.,  but  that  does 
not  make  it  right  to  act  in  a  hurry.  Better  not  do  a  thing 
than  do  it  badly.  I  must  be  patient  and  wait  on  God.  If  it 
is  His  Will  I  should  do  more  He  will  give  me  time.  I  am 
not  serving  Him  by  blundering. 

'  You  will  be  glad  to  know,  (what,  at  present,  is  a  great 
secret)  that  we  are  likely  to  have  a  house  at  Oxford  after  all. 
Be  patient  and  all  will  be  well.' 

To  THE  Same. 

'  May  23rd,  1866. 

'  I  should  have  written  to  you  before  this  to  say  so,  but  I 
have  hoped  day  by  day  to  tell  you  something  of  this  Oxford 
scheme,  but  I  have  nothing  to  tell.  It  is  just  a  month  to-day 
since  we  sent  in  our  remarks  on  the  Bishop's  offer,  and  he 
has  not  yet  replied.  He  called  and  asked  the  meaning  of 
some  parts  of  the  letter,  and  no  answer  has  come.  I  do  not 
think  his  hesitation  arises  so  much  from  anything  we  have 

'  Papal  Infallibility. 


OXFORD   AGAIN   (1866-1867)  127 

said,  as  from  a  vague  misgiving  when  it  comes  to  the  point, 
and  perhaps  from  what  people  say  to  him.  Two  years  ago 
there  was  a  bold  assertion  that  I  was  just  the  last  man 
whom  Oxford  men  would  bear  to  be  in  Oxford,  and  from 
something  the  Bishop  said  it  would  appear  that  this  idea  is 
not  altogether  without  effect  upon  him.  I  wish  it  were  de- 
cided one  way  or  the  other,  for  it  keeps  us  in  various  ways 
in  suspense.  It  must  now  be  decided  for  good  and  all,  for 
my  age  neither  promises  a  future,  nor  is  consistent  with  this 
work-impeding  uncertainty. 

'  We  are  going  to  have  a  Latin  Play  next  week  in  honour 
of  St.  Philip.     I  wish  you  were  with  us.' 

To  THE  Same. 

•Nov.  nth,  1866. 

'  I  got  your  July  letter  before  I  set  out,  though  I  had  not 
time  to  answer  it.  You  were  the  first  to  give  me  information 
of  Cardinal  Reisach  being  in  England.  Had  I  had  the 
slightest  encouragement,  I  should  have  called  on  him,  for 
I  knew  him  at  Rome.  But,  though  he  was  at  Oscott,  I  did 
not  know  of  it  till  he  was  gone.  Mr.  Pope  from  this  house 
went  up  to  London  and  saw  the  Archbishop  and  the 
Cardinal.  Neither  of  them  even  mentioned  my  name.  The 
Cardinal  was  sent,  I  am  told,  for  three  days  to  W.  G.  Ward's, 
where  of  course  he  would  hear  one  side  fairly  and  fully 
enough,  but  it  is  a  one-sided  way  of  getting  at  the  true  state 
of  things  to  be  content  with  the  information  of  a  violent 
partizan.  It  is  on  account  of  things  of  this  kind  that  I  view 
with  equanimity  the  prospect  of  a  thorough  routing  out  of 
things  at  Rome,— not  till  some  great  convulsions  take  place 
(which  may  go  on  for  years  and  years,  and  when  I  can  do 
neither  good  nor  harm)  and  religion  is  felt  to  be  in  the  midst 
of  trials,  red-tapism  will  go  out  of  Rome,  and  a  better  spirit 
come  in,  and  Cardinals  and  Archbishops  will  have  some  of 
the  reality  they  had,  amid  many  abuses,  in  the  Middle  Ages. 
At  present  things  arc  in  appearance  as  effete,  though  in  a 
different  way,  thank  God,  as  they  were  in  the  tenth  century. 
We  are  sinking  into  a  sort  of  Novatianism — the  heresy  which 
the  early  Popes  so  strenuously  resisted.  Instead  of  aiming 
at  being  a  world-wide  power,  we  are  shrinking  into  ourselves, 
narrowing  the  lines  of  communion,  trembling  at  freedom  of 
thought,  and  using  the  language  of  dismay  and  despair  at 
the  prospect  before  us,  instead  of,  with  the  high  spirit  of  the 
warrior,  going  out  conquering  and  to  conquer.  ...  I  believe 
the  Pope's  spirit  is  simply  that  of  martyrdom,  and  is  utterly 
different    from  that  implied    in    these    gratuitous  shriekings 


128  LIFE   OF   CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

which  surround  his  throne.  But  the  power  of  God  is  abroad 
upon  the  earth,  and  He  will  settle  things  in  spite  of  what 
cliques  and  parties  may  decide. 

'  I  am  glad  you  like  my  sermon, — the  one  thing  I  wished 
to  oppose  is  the  coward  despairing  spirit  of  the  day.' 

•January  8th,  1867. 

'  When  I  heard  those  words  of  the  Holy  Father  [criticis- 
ing the  Rambler  article  already  referred  to],  I  was  far  from 
silent  under  them.  It  has  always  seemed  to  me,  as  the 
Saints  say,  that  self-defence,  though  not  advisable  ordinarily, 
is  a  duty  when  it  is  a  question  of  faith.  The  Bishop  too 
wished  me  to  write  to  Rome ;  but  the  question  was,  to 
whom.  He  proposed  Mgr.  Barnabo,  but  I  explained  that 
I  could  not  account  him  my  friend.  The  question  then 
was,  to  whom  else?  Cardinal  Wiseman  was  at  Rome,  and 
I  wrote  to  him  a  long  letter  minutely  going  into  the  matter, 
and  saying  that,  if  I  were  only  told  what  the  special  points 
were  in  which  I  was  wrong,  I  would  explain  myself  and 
I  had  no  doubt  I  could  do  so  most  satisfactorily.  The 
Cardinal  got  my  letter,  but  he  never  answered  it,  never 
alluded  to  it.  But  six  (I  think)  months  after  he  sent  me  a 
message  by  Dr.  Manning,  to  say  that  I  should  not  hear 
more  of  it. 

'  I  wished  to  explain,  because  it  is  impossible  I  should 
not  hear  more  of  it, — indeed  I  know  it  created  a  lasting 
suspicion  on  the  minds  of  Roman  authorities.  The  Bishop 
had  advised  me  to  give  up  the  Rambler,  else  I  should  have 
taken  an  opportunity  of  attempting  to  explain  myself  in  a 
subsequent  number.  I  say  "  attempt,"  for  it  is  poor  work 
answering  when  you  do  not  know  the  point  of  the  charge. 
The  Bishop  indeed  had  told  me  the  paragraph,  and  in- 
dependently of  him  a  theologian  in  England  had  charged 
me  with  heresy  on  two  or  three  counts,  but  I  could  not 
answer  a  man  who  had  condemned  before  he  heard  me. 
What  I  have  ever  intended  to  do  was  to  take  the  first 
opportunity  of  explaining  myself  Last  year  I  thought  my 
letter  to  Pusey  would  have  given  me  an  opportunity  ;  so  it 
would  if  I  had  gone  on  to  the  subject  of  the  Pope  and  the 
Church, — and  if  I  still  go  on  to  it,  I  probably  shall  do  as 
I  intended.  .  ,  . 

*  I  have  already  asked  the  Bishop  about  our  collecting 
money  [for  the  Oxford  scheme].  You  speak  as  if  I  were 
dawdling  and  losing  time.  So  I  should  be  if  the  work  were 
one  which  /  had  chosen  as  God's  work.  But  on  the  contrary, 
it  has  been  forced  on  me  against  my  will,  and  certainly,  if 


OXFORD   AGAIN   (1866-1867)  129 

not  against  my  judgment,  yet  not  with  it,  or  my  will  would 
not  be  against  it.  It  would  be  a  great  inconsistency  in  me 
to  let  six  months  pass  and  do  nothing  were  I  convinced  it 
was  the  will  of  Providence, — -but  I  do  not  feel  this.  I  only 
go  because  I  fear  to  be  deaf  to  a  Divine  call,  but,  if  anything 
happened  in  the  six  months  to  prevent  it,  that  would  be  to 
me  a  sign  that  there  never  had  been  a  Divine  call.  It  is 
cowardice  not  to  fight  when  you  feel  it  to  be  your  duty  to 
fight,  but,  when  you  do  not  feel  it  is  your  duty,  to  fight 
is  not  bravery,  but  self  will. 

'  As  to  defending  myself,  you  may  make  yourself  quite 
sure  I  never  will,  unless  it  is  a  simple  duty.  Such  is  a 
charge  against  my  religious  faith — such  against  my  veracity 
— such  any  charge  in  which  the  cause  of  religion  is  involved. 
But,  did  I  go  out  and  battle  commonly,  I  should  lose  my 
time,  my  peace,  my  strength,  and  only  shew  a  detestable 
sensitiveness.  I  consider  that  Time  is  the  great  remedy 
and  Avenger  of  all  wrongs,  as  far  as  this  world  goes.  If 
only  we  are  patient,  God  works  for  us.  He  works  for  those 
who  do  not  work  for  themselves.  Of  course  an  inward 
brooding  over  injuries  is  not  patience,  but  a  recollecting  with 
a  view  to  the  future  is  prudence.' 

The  renewed  opposition  of  Ward  and  Herbert  Vaughan 
to  the  Oxford  scheme,  and  their  conviction  that  Newman's 
presence  there  would  prove  a  magnet,  now  as  in  1864  encom- 
passed his  scheme  with  immense  difficulties.  '  As  Cardinal 
Barnabo  has  already  on  three  distinct  occasions  acted  un- 
comfortably towards  me,'  Newman  wrote  to  Canon  Walker, 
'  I  will  begin  nothing  and  will  spend  nothing  until  I  have  his 
leave  so  distinctly  that  he  cannot  undo  it.  Nothing  can  be 
kinder  or  more  considerate  than  the  Bishop  has  been.  And 
besides,  since  I  know  that  there  were  powerful  influences 
from  home  which  were  especially  directed  against  the  Oratory 
going  to  Oxford  in  1864,  the  event  will  alone  decide  whether 
or  not  those  influences  will  remain  in  a  quiescent  state  now.' 

Still,  to  give  to  Newman  and  his  Oratory  the  Oxford 
Mission  was  so  simple  a  proposal,  and  one  so  obviously 
within  the  discretion  of  his  diocesan,  that  it  was  hardly  con- 
ceivable that  Propaganda  would  refuse  to  allow  it.  It  was 
understood  from  the  first  that  no  allusion  to  the  bearing  of 
the  scheme  on  the  interests  of  Catholic  undergraduates  at 
Oxford  was  to  be  made  in  any  public  announcement.  A 
VOL.  II.  K 


i^o 


LIFE   OF  CARDINAL   NEWMAN 


church  to  be  built  by  Newman  in  Oxford,  as  a  memorial  of 
the  Oxford  conversions,  was  an  unassailable  project.  A  fresh 
plot  of  ground  in  St.  Aldate's  Street  had  been  bought  by 
Newman  before  the  end  of  1865,  and  Father  William  Neville 
bought  two  adjoining  plots  in  1866.  Negotiations  were 
pending  as  to  another  piece  of  land  belonging  to  the  St. 
Aldate's  traders  ;  but  still,  the  suspicions  in  some  quarters 
that  any  fresh  connection  between  Newman  and  Oxford 
would  mean  an  encouragement  of  '  mixed  education,'  made 
him  hesitate  to  clinch  the  bargain,  lest  his  purchases  might 
again  prove  useless  and  the  land  have  simply  to  be 
re-sold.  He  was  for  months  in  most  painful  uncertainty  as 
to  the  future.  On  May  17,  1866,  he  writes  to  James 
Hope-Scott  deeply  depressed  and  full  of  doubt  as  to  the 
issue  of  events.  On  June  10,  on  the  other  hand,  he  tells 
Lord  Blachford  that  his  going  to  Oxford  is  all  but  certain. 
He  had  at  this  time  that  vivid  sense  of  the  difficulties  of 
his  task  which  rendered  all  initiation  so  irksome  to  him. 
It  had  been  the  same  with  each  work  he  had  attempted 
as  a  Catholic — the  foundation  of  the  Oratory  and  of  the 
Catholic  University,  the  Scripture  translation,  the  editorship 
of  the  Rambler.  He  wrote  thus  to  W.  J.  Copeland  at  the 
end  of  May : 

'  You  can't  tell  how  very  much  down  I  am  at  the  thought 
of  going  to  Oxford,  which  is  now  very  probable.  I  should 
not  go  there  with  any  intention  of  catching  at  converts — 
though  of  course  I  wish  to  bring  out  clearly  and  fully  what 
I  feel  to  be  the  Truth — but  the  notion  of  getting  into  hot 
water,  is  most  distasteful  to  me,  now  when  I  wish  to  be  a 
little  quiet.  I  cannot  be  in  a  happier  position  than  I  am. 
But,  were  I  ever  so  sure  of  incurring  no  collisions  with 
persons  I  love,  still  the  mere  publicity  is  a  great  trial  to 
me.  And  even  putting  that  aside,  the  very  seeing  Oxford 
again,  since  I  am  not  one  with  it,  would  be  a  cruel  thing — it 
is  like  the  dead  coming  to  the  dead.  O  dear,  dear,  how  I 
dread  it — but  it  seems  to  be  the  will  of  God,  and  I  do  not 
know  how  to  draw  back.' 

To  St.  John  he  wrote  from  London  on  June  23  : 

'  Westminster  Palace  Hotel :  Saturday. 

'  Hope-Scott  has  sent  William  [Neville]  to  Oxford  this 
morning  to  see  about  buying  more  land.     He  is  to  return  by 


OXFORD   AGAIN    (1866-1867)  131 

dinner   time,   and    we   dine  with    Hope-Scott  at   half  past 
seven. 

'  We  dined  with  Acton  yesterday,  and  after  dinner  came 
Monteith,  the  O'Conor  Don,  Mr.  Maxwell,  Blennerhassett, 
&c.  On  Thursday  we  met  at  Hope-Scott's  all  the  Kerrs. 
At  Gladstone's  breakfast  I  met  young  Lady  Lothian,  Lord 
Lyttelton,  General  Beauregard  &c.  Tomorrow  we  lunch  with 
the  [Frank]  Wards  and  dine  with  Bellasis.  On  Thursday  I  am 
to  dine  with  the  Simeons  to  meet  Mr.  Chichester  Fortescue, 
Stanley  and  perhaps  Gladstone.  On  Monday  we  shall  break- 
fast with  Badeley.  So  you  see  in  my  old  age  I  am  learning 
to  be  a  man  of  fashion.' 

On  July  25  Newman  sends  Hope-Scott  a  letter  from 
Bishop  Ullathorne  'which  seems  to  show  that  we  shall  not 
be  sent  to  Oxford  at  all.' 

By  the  end  of  the  year,  however,  the  permission  of 
Propaganda  was  obtained,  and  Newman  was  at  last  enabled 
to  issue  a  formal  circular,  which  ran  as  follows : 

'  Father  Newman,  having  been  entrusted  with  the  Mission 
of  Oxford,  is  proceeding,  with  the  sanction  of  Propaganda,  to 
the  establishment  there  of  a  House  of  the  Oratory. 

'  Some  such  establishment  in  one  of  the  great  seats  of 
learning  seems  to  be  demanded  of  English  Catholics,  at  a 
time  when  the  relaxation  both  of  controversial  animosity  and 
of  legal  restriction  has  allowed  them  to  appear  before  their 
countrymen  in  the  full  profession  and  the  genuine  attributes 
of  their  Holy  Religion. 

*  And,  while  there  is  no  place  in  England  more  likely 
than  Oxford  to  receive  a  Catholic  community  with  fairness, 
interest,  and  intelligent  curiosity,  so  on  the  other  hand  the 
English  Oratory  has  this  singular  encouragement  in  placing 
itself  there,  that  it  has  been  expressly  created  and  blessed 
by  the  reigning  Pontiff  for  the  very  purpose  of  bringing 
Catholicity  before  the  educated  classes  of  society,  and 
especially  those  classes  which  represent  the  traditions  and 
the  teaching  of  Oxford. 

'  Moreover,  since  many  of  its  priests  have  been  educated 
at  the  Universities,  it  brings  to  its  work  an  acquaintance  and 
a  sympathy  with  academical  habits  and  sentiments,  which 
are  a  guarantee  of  its  inoffensive  bearing  towards  the  members 
of  another  communion,  and  which  will  specially  enable  it  to 
discharge  its  sacred  duties  in  the  peaceable  and  conciliatory 
spirit  which  is  the  historical  characteristic  of  the  sons  of 
St.  Philip  Neri. 

K  2 


132  LIFE  OF  CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

'  Father  Newman  has  already  secured  a  site  for  an 
Oratory  Church  and  buildings  in  an  eligible  part  of  Oxford  ; 
and  he  now  addresses  himself  to  the  work  of  collecting  the 
sums  necessary  for  carrying  his  important  undertaking  into 
effect.  This  he  is  able  to  do  under  the  sanction  of  the 
following  letter  from  the  Bishop  of  the  diocese,  which  it 
gives  him  great  satisfaction  to  publish  : 

' "  My  dear  Dr.  Newman, — Oxford  is  the  only  city  in 
England  of  importance,  which  has  a  Catholic  congregation 
without  a  Catholic  Church.  A  small  room,  devoid  of  archi- 
tectural pretension,  built  three  quarters  of  a  century  ago, 
at  the  back  of  the  priest's  dwelling,  and  in  the  suburb  of 
St.  Clement's,  represents  the  hidden  and  almost  ignominious 
position  of  Catholic  worship  at  Oxford.  The  only  school- 
room for  Catholic  children  is  a  sort  of  scullery  attached  to 
the  same  priest's  residence,  which  most  of  the  children  can 
only  reach  after  an  hour's  walk  from  their  homes.  Even  the 
Protestants  of  Oxford  cry  shame  upon  this  state  of  things  ; 
whilst  the  Catholics  have  long  and  earnestly  desired  to  see  it 
amended. 

'  "  It  is  then  with  great  satisfaction  that  I  find  you  disposed 
to  answer  the  call,  so  often  made  upon  you,  to  build  a  Church 
in  Oxford,  with  the  view  of  ultimately  establishing  an  Oratory 
there  of  St.  Philip  Neri. 

'  "  Whatever  exertions,  and  whatever  sacrifices,  this  under- 
taking may  call  for  at  your  hands,  I  believe  that  j^ou;-  taking 
up  the  work  of  building  a  Church  and  Oratory  in  Oxford 
will  secure  its  accomplishment.  You  will  awaken  an  interest 
in  the  work,  and  will  draw  forth  a  disposition  in  many 
persons  to  help  and  to  co-operate  in  its  success,  which 
another  might  fail  to  do. 

• "  If  we  consider  it  as  a  monument  of  gratitude  to  God  for 
the  conversions  of  the  last  thirty  years  ;  who  could  be  so 
properly  placed  in  front  of  this  undertaking?  If  we  look 
upon  that  Mission  as  the  witness  of  Catholic  Truth  in  the 
chief  centre  of  Anglican  enquiry,  whose  name  can  be  so  fitly 
associated  with  that  Mission  ?  If  we  take  the  generous  work 
to  our  hearts  in  its  prime  intention,  that  of  saving  souls  for 
whom  Christ  died,  who  of  all  good  Catholics  will  refuse  to 
join  their  generosity  with  yours,  in  building  up  this  blessed 
work  for  the  glory  of  God,  and  for  peace  and  good  will  to 
men  ? 

' "  I  pray  God,  then,  to  bless  you  and  to  prosper  the 
work  He  has  given  you  to  accomplish  ;  and  I  pray  also 
that    He    will  deign    to    bless    and    to    reward    all    those 


OXFORD   AGAIN    (1866-1S67)  133 

Christian  souls  who  shall  co-operate  with  you  in  this  work 
of  benediction. 

*"  And  I  remain,  my  dear  Dr.  Newman, 

Your  faithful  and  affectionate  servant  in  Christ, 

^      W.  B.  Ullathorne. 
• "  To  the  Very  Rev.  Dr.  Newman." 

'  It  is  under  these  circumstances,  with  these  reasonable 
claims,  and  with  this  authoritative  sanction,  that  Father 
Newman  brings  his  object  before  the  public  ;  and  he  ventures 
to  solicit  all  who  take  an  interest  in  it  for  contributions 
upon  a  scale  adequate  to  the  occasion,  contributions  large 
enough  and  numerous  enough  for  carrying  out  an  important 
work  in  a  manner  worthy  of  the  Catholic  name,  worthy  of 
the  most  beautiful  city  and  one  of  the  great  and  ancient 
Universities  of  England. 

'  It  is  considered  that,  on  the  lowest  computation,  the 
outlay  for  ground,  house  and  church  will  not  be  less  than 
from  8,000/.  to  10,000/. 

'Birmingham,  The  Octave  of  the  Epiphany,  1867.' 

The  circular  gave  joy  to  the  compact  phalanx  of  the 
laity  who  had  for  four  years  been  Newman's  supporters  in 
the  scheme.  It  struck  a  chord  of  sympathy,  too,  in  old 
Oxford  friends  like  Father  Coleridge  and  Monsignor 
Patterson,  who,  though  endorsing  the  anti-Oxford  policy  of 
the  Bishops,  cherished  still  the  old  reverence  for  Newman 
and  the  old  love  for  Oxford.  Patterson  wrote  to  express 
his  happiness  at  the  prospect  and  sent  100/.  The  very  fact 
that  so  intimate  a  friend  of  Cardinal  Wiseman — intimate  too, 
though  in  a  lesser  degree,  with  his  successor — hailed  the  pro- 
posed plan,  showed  that  it  was  regarded  at  this  moment  in 
high  places  without  avowed  disapproval.  Patterson's  letter 
expressed  the  feeling  which  was  in  many  hearts  : 

'  January  29th,  1S67. 

'My  dear  Father  Newman,— I  can  hardly  tell  you  with 
what  feelings  I  read  your  note  and  the  circular.  Under  God 
I  owe  the  opening  of  my  mind  to  His  Truth  to  Oxford — 
Oxford  with  its  spirit  of  reverence  for  the  past,  its  very  walls 
and  stones  crying  out  of  Catholic  times  and  preaching  of 
the  City  of  the  living  God.  And  that  they  were  thus  vocal 
we  chiefly  owe  to  you.  It  was  you  who  heard  and  interpreted 
them  aright  and  showed  to  us,  then  youths,  the  beauty  of 
Catholic  conduct — I  allude  particularly  to  that  act  of  yours, 


134  LIFE  OF  CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

when  in  the  noontide  of  your  leadership  of  the  good  cause, 
at  the  word  of  him  whom  you  esteemed  your  Bishop  you 
arrested  the  prime  source  and  current  of  all  your  influence 
without  a  word  of  remonstrance  or  explanation.  I  cannot 
but  believe  that  this  heroic  act  was  congruously  rewarded  in 
your  submission  to  the  faith,  and  now  I  seethe  Hand  of  God 
in  your  being  brought  back  to  preach  once  more  in  Oxford 
with  the  certainty  of  faith  much  that  you  taught  us  of  old  as 
your  most  earnest  conviction,  at  the  wish  of  your  Bishop  and 
with  the  sanction  of  Rome.  The  genius  loci  is  so  potent  that 
I  sincerely  believe  there  is  danger  to  the  faith  of  young 
Catholics  who  go  to  Oxford,  and  as  some  I  fear  at  any  rate 
will  study  there,  it  is  of  the  utmost  moment  that  the  mission 
should  be  a  first-rate  one  in  every  point  of  view. 

'  Sunday  was  the  feast  of  St.  John  Chrysostom,  and  I 
offered  the  Most  Holy  Sacrifice  in  his  honour  that,  as  you 
emulate  his  eloquence  and  his  learning,  you  may  also,  by 
his  intercession,  rival  him  in  the  success  of  your  ministry. 

'  I  heartily  wish  I  could  make  some  offering  less  inadequate 
to  your  charitable  labour,  and  the  benefits  I  owe  to  Oxford. 
As  it  is,  I  must  content  myself  with  the  sum  of  which  I 
enclose  half,  and  if  you  think  my  name  can  possibly  be  of 
any  use  it  is  entirely  at  your  service. 

'  Believe  me, 

Ever  yours, 

J.  L.  Patterson.' 

Newman  thus  replied  : 

'The  Oratory,  Birmingham  :  January  30th,  1867. 

'  My  dear  Patterson, — Your  warm  and  affectionate  letter 
has  quite  overpowered  me.  Such  feelings  are  the  earnest  of 
efficacious  prayers.  I  shall  do  well  if  those  prayers  go  with 
me.  My  age  is  such  that  I  ought  to  work  fast  before  the 
night  comes,  — yet  I  never  can  work  fast ;  I  don't  expect 
then  much  to  come  of  my  being  at  Oxford  in  what  remains 
to  me  of  life,  but,  if  I  have  such  good  prayers  as  yours,  what 
I  may  do  will  bear  fruit  afterwards.  I  cannot  help  having 
as  great  a  devotion  to  St.  Chrysostom  as  to  any  Saint  in  the 
Calendar.  On  his  day  I  came  to  Birmingham  to  begin  the 
Mission  1 8  years  ago.  It  was  very  kind  of  you  to  say  Mass 
for  me  under  his  intercession.  I  have  said  above  :  "  I  cannot 
help,"  because  in  most  cases  from  circumstances  one  chooses 
one's  Saints  as  patrons, — but  St.  Chrysostom  comes  upon  one, 
whether  one  will  or  no,  and  by  his  sweetness  and  naturalness 
compels  one's  devotion. 


OXFORD   AGAIN    (1866-1867)  135 

'  Thank  you  for  the  cheque  for  50/.,  the  moiety  of  your 
liberal  contribution. 

'  Yours  affectionately  in  Christ, 

John  H.  Newman.' 

While  the  circular  respecting  the  Oxford  Mission  was 
widely  welcome,  it  raised  a  difficulty  in  the  minds  of  those 
who  did  not  know  the  forces  at  work.  Many  welcomed 
Newman's  project  just  because  their  sons  would  when  going 
to  Oxford  have  his  influence  and  personal  help  to  support 
them.  Why,  then,  was  no  allusion  made  at  all  in  the  circular 
to  the  Catholic  undergraduates  ?  But  in  truth  the  campaign 
against  sending  Catholic  boys  to  Oxford  was  so  energetic 
that,  at  the  very  time  when  fathers  of  families  were  asking 
this  question,  Newman  received  a  message  from  Propaganda 
peremptorily  rebuking  him  for  preparing  boys  for  Oxford  at 
the  Oratory  school.  In  his  despondency  he  feared  that  the 
school  might  share  the  cloud  which  seemed  to  be  cast  over 
himself  and  all  his  work.  Father  Ambrose  was  deputed  to 
go  to  Rome  and  explain  matters  ;  and  to  the  parents  of  the 
boys  he  frankly  told  the  state  of  the  case,  as  in  the  following 
letter  to  Sir  Justin  Shell  : 

'The  Oratory,  Birmingham  :  March  22nd,  1867. 

'  My  dear  Sir  Justin, — -A  diplomatist  and  a  man  of  high 
commands  as  you  have  been  will  allow  me,  without  being 
thought  to  take  a  liberty  with  you,  to  ask  your  confidence 
while  I  freely  tell  you  my  position  as  regards  our  Oratory 
undertaking. 

'  Two  or  three  years  ago,  when  it  was  settled  by  our 
Bishop  that  I  was  to  go  there,  it  was  on  the  strict  condition 
that  the  Oratory  took  no  part  in  the  education  of  the  place. 
I  drew  up  a  circular  in  which  I  said  merely :  "  that  I  went 
for  the  sake  of  the  religious  instruction  of  the  Catholic  youth 
there  "  ;  and  to  my  surprise  the  late  Cardinal  was  so  angry 
even  with  my  recognising  the  fact  of  their  being  at  Oxford  in 
any  way,  that  he  sent  the  news  of  it  to  Rome,  though  I  had 
not  actually  issued  the  paper,  and  it  has  created  a  prejudice 
against  me  ever  since.  Accordingly  in  the  circular  I  sent  you 
the  other  day,  I  could  not  put  in  a  word  about  Catholic  youth 
being  at  Oxford  ;  and  the  intention  of  the  present  Archbishop 
is,  if  he  can,  to  stamp  them  out  from  the  place.  However, 
this  has  not  been  enough, — a  further  step  has  been  taken,  for 
last  Monday  I  got  a  letter  from  Propaganda  saying  that  they 


136  LIFE   OF   CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

had  heard  that  I  had  in  my  School  here  some  youths 
preparing  for  Oxford,  and  solemnly  ordering  me  neither 
directly  nor  indirectly  to  do  anything  to  promote  young  men 
going  there. 

'  You  are  too  well  acquainted  with  a  soldier's  duties,  not 
to  know  that  it  is  impossible  for  me  to  disobey  the  orders  of 
my  commanders  in  the  Church  Militant.  So,  what  I  must  do 
as  regards  the  School  is,  to  my  great  sorrow,  to  relinquish 
those  who  go  to  Oxford  for  a  short  time  before  they  go 
there,  if  I  should  find  they  need,  in  addition  to  the  general 
instruction  we  give  them  here,  any  special  preparation  for  the 
University. 

'  Now  before  proceeding,  I  will  tell  you  my  own  opinion 
on  the  matter.  I  differ  from  you  decidedly  in  this,  viz.,  that, 
if  I  had  my  will,  I  would  have  a  large  Catholic  University,  as 
I  hoped  might  have  been  setup  in  Dublin  when  I  went  there. 
But  I  hold  this  to  be  a  speculative  perfection  which  cannot 
be  carried  out  in  practice, — and  then  comes  the  question  what 
is  to  be  done  under  the  circumstmices.  Secondly  then,  I  say 
that  Oxford  is  a  very  dangerous  place  to  faith  and  morals. 
This  I  grant,  but  then  I  say  that  all  places  are  dangerous^ — 
the  world  is  dangerous.  I  do  not  believe  -that  Oxford  is 
more  dangerous  than  Woolwich,  than  the  army,  than 
London, — and  I  think  you  cannot  keep  young  men  under 
glass  cases.  Therefore  I  am  on  the  whole  not  against  young 
men  going  to  Oxford  ;  though  at  the  same  time  there  are 
those  whom,  from  their  special  circumstances,  of  idleness, 
extravagance,  &c.  &c.,  I  certainly  should  not  advise  to  go 
there. 

*  Such  is  my  opinion,  and  it  will  surprise  you  to  hear  that, 
be  it  good  or  be  it  bad,  no  one  in  authority  has  ever  asked 
for  it  all  through  the  discussion  of  the  last  two  or  three 
years. 

*  And  now  let  me  go  on  to  the  practical  question  of  the 
moment.  From  that  and  other  articles  in  the  Westminster 
Gazette,  and  from  the  letters  which  have  come  to  me  from 
Propaganda,  I  am  sure  that  more  stringent  measures  are 
intended,  to  hinder  young  Catholics  going  to  Oxford,  and 
I  think  they  can  only  be  prevented  by  the  laity.  What 
I  should  like  you  to  do  then  is  not  to  withdraw  your  name 
from  our  subscription  list,  but  to  join  with  other  contributors, 
as  you  have  a  right  to  do,  in  letting  me  know  formally  your 
own  opinion  on  the  subject.  And  for  myself  I  can  only  say 
that,  if  I  find  the  sense  of  the  contributors  is  against  my 
going  to   Oxford  without  their  being  let  alone  in  sending 


OXFORD   AGAIN    (1866-1867)  137 

their  sons  there,  I  will  not  take  their  money,  as  I  should  be 
doing  so  under  false  pretences. 

'  My  dear  Sir  Justin, 

Sincerely  yours, 

John  H.  Newman.' 

Such  scruples  as  those  expressed  in  the  concluding  words 
of  this  letter  were  not  regarded  by  Newman's  friends.  Con- 
tributions came  in  freely,  and  the  establishment  of  an  Oxford 
Oratory  was  spoken  of  as  an  assured  prospect. 

At  last,  then,  after  the  three  years  of  suspense,  after  all 
the  ups  and  downs  of  the  struggle,  the  pain  caused  by  the 
opposition  of  old  friends,  the  greater  pain  given  by  the 
charges  against  his  loyalty  as  a  Catholic,  all  seemed  to 
promise  well.  The  one  position  in  which  he  felt  he  could,  in 
the  years  that  remained  to  him,  do  a  real  work  for  the  Church 
seemed  assured  to  him.  He  thought  he  saw  God's  Will 
clearly.  If  any  fresh  enterprise  was  at  his  age  anxious  and 
hard,  to  support  him  in  this  he  had  the  conviction  that  it  was 
to  him  a  most  suitable  task  and  was  assigned  him  by  lawful 
authority.  The  clinging  affection  he  ever  preserved  for 
Oxford,  moreover,  must  make  it  a  labour  of  love. 

He  was  now  actively  engaged  in  discussing  the  site  of 
the  new  church.  Was  it  to  be  built  on  the  ground  he  had  ? 
Or  should  a  new  site  of  which  he  had  heard  be  preferred  to 
the  old  ? 

'  Our  present  piece,'  he  writes  to  Hope-Scott, '  is  so  situated 
as  to  be  almost  shaking  a  iist  at  Christ  Church.  It  is  osten- 
tatious— no  one  can  go  in  or  out  of  our  projected  Church 
without  being  seen.  Again  it  is  not  central — but  New  Inn 
Hall  Street  at  one  end  of  it  leads  into  St.  Ebbe's  and  to  St 
Thomas' — at  the  other  end  it  opens  upon  St.  Mary  Magdalen's 
Church  and  Broad  Street  and  Jesus  Lane — and  by  George 
Lane  upon  Worcester  College  &c.  and  St.  Giles'  and  Park 
Villas — and  being  approached  in  such  various  ways  it  is 
approachable  silently.  Again  the  Union  Debating  Room  is 
on  the  opposite  side  of  the  street— and  opens  into  the  street 
at  its  back  through  its  garden.  There  is  a  good  (but  ugly) 
stone  house  upon  the  ground  flush  with  the  street,  which 
would  save  building  as  far  as  it  goes — whereas  our  houses 
opposite  Christ  Church  are  lath  and  plaster.  Of  course  the 
question  occurs  whether  we  can  get  our  present  ground  off 


138  LIFE  OF  CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

our  hands.  Again,  though  I  have  not  asked  many  people 
yet,  still  as  yet  I  hear  no  one  in  favour  of  the  new  ground. 
Gaisford,  Pollen,  and  Glutton  the  architect,  are  for  keeping 
what  we  have  got.' 

Although  the  formal  permission — so  he  was  told — had 
come  from  Rome,  the  old  Oxford  priest,  Mr.  Gomberbach, 
who.se  place  the  Oratorians  were  to  take,  seemed  to  be  un- 
accountably slow  in  moving,  and  put  the  new-comers  off  with 
excuse  after  excuse.  But  this  was  regarded  at  the  Oratory 
as  only  a  rather  tiresome  eccentricity.  Newman,  impatient  to 
make  his  plans,  sent  Father  William  Neville  on  March  21  to 
ascertain  definitely  the  date  of  Mr.  Gomberbach's  departure, 
and  he  at  last  announced  that  he  should  be  gone  soon  after 
Easter.  Neville  was  to  go  to  Oxford  again  on  Saturday, 
April  6 — the  eve  of  Passion  Sunday.  In  the  morning  he 
packed  his  portmanteau,  and  then,  in  company  with  Newman, 
went  for  a  long-remembered  walk  on  the  Highfield  Road,  past 
St.  George's  Ghurch.  The  memory  of  it  was  handed  on  by 
Father  Neville  to  the  present  writer,  in  more  than  one  conver- 
sation. Newman,  sunshine  on  his  face,  talked  of  the  prospect. 
'  Earlier  failures  do  not  matter  now,'  he  said  ;  '  I  see  that  I 
have  been  reserved  by  God  for  this.  There  are  signs  of  a 
religious  reaction  in  Oxford  against  the  Liberalism  and  in- 
differentism  of  ten  years  ago.  It  is  evidently  a  moment 
when  a  strong  and  persuasive  assertion  of  Christian  and 
Catholic  principles  will  be  invaluable.  Such  men  as  Mark 
Pattison  may  conceivably  be  won  over.  Although  I  am  not 
young,  I  feel  as  full  of  life  and  thought  as  ever  I  did.  It  may 
prove  to  be  the  inauguration  of  a  second  Oxford  Movement.' 
Then  he  turned  to  the  practical  object  of  Neville's  visit. 
'  Have  a  good  look  at  the  Catholic  undergraduates  in  Church. 
Tell  me  how  many  they  are.  Try  and  find  out  who  they  are 
and  what  they  are  like.  Let  me  know  where  they  sit  in  the 
Church,  that  I  may  picture  beforehand  how  I  shall  have  to 
stand  when  I  preach,  in  order  to  see  them  naturally,  and 
address  them.  Tell  me,  too,  what  the  Ghurch  services  are 
at  present,  and  we  will  discuss  what  changes  may  be  made 
with  advantage.'  Thus  happily  talking  they  returned  to 
the  Oratory.  The  servant,  who  opened  the  door  to  admit 
them,  at  once  gave  Newman  a  long  blue  envelope,  and  said  : 


OXFORD   AGAIN    (1866-1867)  139 

'  Canon  Estcourt  has  called  from  the  Bishop's  house  and 
asked  me  to  be  sure  to  give  you  this  immediately  on  your 
return.'  Newman  opened  and  read  the  letter,  and  turned 
to  William  Neville :  '  All  is  over.  I  am  not  allowed  to  go.' 
No  word  more  was  spoken.  The  Father  covered  his  face 
with  his  hands,  and  left  his  friend,  who  went  to  his  room  and 
unpacked  his  portmanteau. 

What  the  Bishop's  letter  told  Newman  was  this  :  that, 
coupled  with  the  formal  permission  for  an  Oratory  at  Oxford, 
Propaganda  had  sent  a  '  secret  instruction  '  to  Dr.  Ullathorne, 
to  the  effect  that,  if  Newman  himself  showed  signs  of  intend- 
ing to  reside  there,  the  Bishop  was  to  do  his  best  '  blandly 
and  suavely '  ('  blande  suaviterque ')  to  recall  him.^  Mr. 
Comberbach's  delay  was  explained.  The  Bishop  had  pur- 
posed going  to  Rome  and  getting  this  instruction  cancelled. 
He  trusted,  therefore,  that  Newman  would  never  hear  of  it, 
for  he  knew  that  he  might  easily  interpret  it  as  showing  a 
want  of  confidence  in  him  on  the  part  of  Rome. 

The  '  instruction  '  was  evidently  the  result  of  a  compromise 
between  the  parties  who  were  for  and  against  the  Oxford 
Oratory.  The  friends  of  Ward  and  Vaughan  had  urged  that 
Newman's  residence  in  Oxford  would  attract  all  Catholic 
young  men  to  the  University.  Yet  a  strong  party  favoured 
his  scheme.  To  grant  an  Oratory,  provided  it  did  not  mean 
Newman's  permanent  residence  at  Oxford,  seemed  a  mezzo 
termine.  The  Bishop  had  mentioned  when  consulting  Propa- 
ganda that  Newman  had  disclaimed,  in  speaking  to  him,  any 
intention  of  residing  at  Oxford.  This  had  been  urged  by 
Newman's  friends  as  a  strong  argument  against  inhibiting  the 
scheme.  If  Newman  did  not  mean  to  live  at  Oxford  there 
was  really  no  case  for  forbidding  the  new  Oratory.  This 
argument  proved  decisive.  Newman's  friends  prevailed. 
Permission  was  accorded.  But  at  the  last  moment  the  Holy 
Father  had  pointed  out  that  the  decisive  argument  rested  on 
the  rather  precarious  basis  of  a  remark  of  Newman  to  his 
Bishop.  The  Bishop  should  be  instructed  to  make  sure  that 
this  part  of  the  arrangement  was  carried  out.'^     But  he  was  to 

'  '  Patrem  Newman  si  forte  de  sua  residentia  in  urbcm  Oxfordiensem  trans- 
ferenda  cogitantem  videris  .  .   .   blande  suaviterque  revocare  studeas.' 
*  The  Holy  Father  himself  insisted  on  this  point,  see  p.  161. 


I40  LIFE   OF   CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

use  the  utmost  courtesy  and  only  to  speak  in  case  of  necessity. 
Hence  the  secret  instruction. 

But  while  the  Bishop  had  kept  the  affair  secret,  now  it  had 
leaked  out  in  the  papers.  A  Catholic  layman,  Mr.  Martin, 
the  Roman  correspondent  of  the  Weekly  Register,  had  come 
to  know  of  it  privately,  and  had  stated  in  a  letter  to  that 
journal,  published  anonymously,  that  the  Holy  Father  had 
'  inhibited'  Newman's  proposed  Mission.  He  had,  moreover, 
hinted  at  just  that  interpretation  of  this  step  which  would 
be  most  painful  to  Newman — that  it  was  due  to  suspicions 
at  Rome  in  regard  of  his  orthodoxy.^  The  only  possible 
plan  therefore  was  to  tell  the  whole  story  to  Newman  with- 
out delay,  before  unauthorised  rumours  could  reach  him. 
'  The  letter  in  question,'  Newman  wrote  to  Canon  Walker 
on  April  14,  '  is  by  Mr.  Martin,  the  person  whom  Dr.  Clifford 
and  my  own  Bishop  answered  last  year.  He  is  of  course 
nothing  in  himself — but  he  represents  unseen  and  unknown 
persons.  His  interference  has  been  most  happy — for  he  has 
let  the  cat  out  of  the  bag — and  a  black  cat  it  is.  It  may 
do  a  great  deal  of  mischief — that  is,  the  cat,  not  his  reveal- 
ing it — for,  depend  upon  it,  its  owners  are  men  of  influence.' 
To  the  Oratorian  community  at  large  scarcely  a  word  more 
was  said.  On  the  spur  of  the  moment  Newman  wrote  to 
the  Bishop  resigning  the  Oxford  Mission.  But  those  Fathers 
whom  he  consulted  recommended  delay,  and  the  letter  was 
kept  back.  A  full  explanation  of  the  'secret  instruction' 
(these  Fathers  held)  must  be  sought  in  Rome.  Newman's  own 
action  must  also  be  vindicated  if  necessary.  And,  for  this,  the 
coming  visit  of  Ambrose  St.  John  and  Bittleston  (in  con- 
nection with  the  affairs  of  the  school)  offered  an  exception- 
ally good  opportunity  which  Newman  determined  to  utilise. 

Meanwhile  Newman's  own  sad  and  indignant  feelings  are 
given  in  the  following  letters  to  Henry  Wilberforce  and  to 
Father  Coleridge : 

^Private.  The  Oratory,  Birmingham  :  April  i6th,  1867. 

'  My  dear  Henry, — Thank  you  for  your  kind  letter. 

'  The  Weekly  Register  letter  has  been  my  good  friend 
...  as  necessitating  the  disclosure  of  some  things  which 
Cardinal    Barnabo    hid    from    me,    and    which    would    have 

'  For  the  text  of  the  letter  in  the  Weekly  Register  see  Appendix,  p.  543. 


OXFORD  AGAIN    (1866-1867)  141 

prevented  me  from  accepting  the  Mission  of  Oxford,  had  I 
known  of  them.  No  sort  of  blame  attaches  to  our  Bishop, 
who  is  my  good  friend — He  hoped  to  have  made  these 
crooked  ways  straight,  which  he  could  not  prevent  existing, 
for  they  were  not  his  ways  ;  but  Mr.  Martin  was  too  much 
for  him,  and,  before  he  could  gain  his  point,  has  let  the 
cat  out  of  the  bag.  ...  Do  you  recollect  in  "  Harold  the 
Dauntless  "  how  the  Abbot  of  Durham  gets  over  the  fierce 
pagan  Dane  ?  Since  that  time  there  has  been  a  tradition 
among  the  Italians  that  the  lay  mind  is  barbaric — fierce  and 
stupid — and  is  destined  to  be  outwitted,  and  that  fine  craft 
is  the  true  weapon  of  Churchmen.  When  I  say  the  lay  mind, 
I  speak  too  narrowly — it  is  the  Saxon,  Teuton,  Scandinavian, 
French  mind.  Cardinal  Barnabo  has  been  trying  his  hand 
on  my  barbarism — and  has  given  directions  that  if  I  took  his 
leave  to  go  to  Oxford  to  the  letter,  and  did  go  there,  I  was 
to  be  recalled  "  blande  et  suaviter."  Hope-Scott  is  so  pained 
that  he  has  withdrawn  his  1000/. 

'  Ever  yours  affectionately, 

John  H.  Newman.' 

Dr.  Newman  to  Father  Coleridge. 

'  The  Oratory,  Birmingham  :  April  26th,  1867. 

'  My  dear  Father  Coleridge, — .  .  .  When  last  Christmas  I 
found  the  words  "  conditionate  et  provisorie"  in  the  letter  (of 
Cardinal  Barnabo)  to  our  Bishop,  (though  I  had  no  suspicion 
at  all  of  a  secret  instruction  such  as  there  really  was  con- 
tained in  it)  I  told  the  Bishop  formally  my  suspicions.  .  .  . 
You  may  fancy  how  he  felt  what  I  said,  being  conscious,  as 
he  was,  of  the  secret  instruction — and  so  he  said  that  I  had 
better  wait  till  he  went  to  Rome  in  May,  and  I  have  waited, 
except  that  I  have  begun  to  collect  the  money.  Also  I  was 
going  to  commence  my  personal  work  at  Oxford  on  the 
second  Sunday  after  Easter,  intending  to  preach  every 
Sunday  through  the  term,  which,  had  I  carried  it  out,  would 
have  led  to  a  certainty  to  the  Bishop's  "  blanda  et  suavis 
revocatio"  ;  and  thus,  as  it  turns  out,  even  though  Mr.  Martin 
had  not  written  a  word,  things  would  have  come  to  a  crisis. 
The  reason  determining  me  to  go  to  Oxford  at  once,  in  spite 
of  the  Bishop's  advice  at  Christmas  (though  he  fully  came 
into  the  plan  of  the  Oratory  going  to  Oxford  at  Easter),  when 
I  after  a  while  proposed  it,  was  the  delay  that  was  likely  to 
take  place  in  beginning  the  Church,  and  all  my  friends  kept 
saying  :  "  You  must  do  something  directly  to  clench  on  your 
part  Propaganda's  permission  to  go,  or  the  Archbishop  will 


142  LIFE  OF  CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

be  getting  the  permission  reversed."  When  then  I  found  it 
impossible  to  make  a  demonstration  in  bricks  and  mortar 
(which  for  myself  I  had,  in  consequence  of  the  suspicions  felt, 
deprecated)  nothing  remained  but  to  make  a  demonstration 
by  actually  preaching  at  Oxford, —  and  this  was  to  my  view 
of  the  matter  far  more  acceptable  because  a  counter  order 
from  Propaganda  would  have  been  serious,  had  we  begun  to 
build,  but  would  have  been  of  no  consequence  at  all,  had  we 
done  nothing  more  than  preach  in  the  Chapel  at  St.  Clement's. 

'  However,  as  it  has  turned  out,  I  am  stopped  both  before 
building  and  preaching. 

'  It  is  perfectly  true,  as  you  say,  that  both  sides  have  not 
been  heard  at  Rome.  The  questions  you  speak  of  circulated 
in  December  1864,  were  too  painful  to  speak  about.  For 
myself,  up  to  this  date  no  one  has  asked  my  opinion, 
and  then  those  who  might,  by  asking,  have  known  it,  have 
encouraged  or  suffered  all  sorts  of  reports  as  to  what  my 
opinion  is,  instead  of  coming  to  me  for  it. 

'  It  is  my  cross  to  have  false  stories  circulated  about  me, 
and  to  be  suspected  in  consequence.  I  could  not  have  a 
lighter  one.  I  would  not  change  it  for  any  other.  Ten  years 
ago  I  was  accused  to  the  Pope  of  many  things  (nothing  to  do 
with  doctrine).  I  went  off  to  Rome  at  an  enormous  in- 
convenience, and  had  two  interviews  with  the  Holy  Father, 
tete-a-tcte.  He  was  most  kind,  and  acquitted  me.  But 
hardly  was  my  back  turned  but  my  enemies  (for  so  I  must 
call  \.\i^m)  practically  ^o\.  the  upper  hand.  Our  Bishop  seems 
to  think  no  great  good  comes  of  seeing  the  Pope,  if  it  is  only 
once  seeing  him.  What  chance  have  I  against  persons  who 
are  day  by  day  at  his  elbow  ?  .  .  . 

*  For  twenty  years  I  have  honestly  and  sensitively  done 
my  best  to  fulfil  the  letter  and  spirit  of  the  directions  of  the 
Holy  See  and  Propaganda,  and  I  never  have  obtained  the 
confidence  of  anyone  at  Rome.  Only  last  3  ear  Cardinal 
Reisach  came   to    England.     I    had    known  him   in   Rome. 

o 

He  never  let  me  know  he  was  in  England.  He  came  to 
Oscott,  and  I  did  not  know  it.  He  went  to  see  my  ground 
at  Oxford,  but  he  was  committed,  not  to  me,  but  to  the 
charge  of  P^ather  Coffin.  .  .  . 

'  I  have  lost  my  desire  to  gain  the  good  will  of  those  who 
thus  look  on  me.  I  have  abundant  consolation  in  the 
unanimous  .sympathy  of  those  around  me.  I  trust  I  shall 
ever  give  a  hearty  obedience  to  Rome,  but  I  never  expect 
in  my  lifetime  any  recognition  of  it. 

'  Yours  most  sincerely, 

John  H.  Newman.' 


OXFORD  AGAIN    (1866-1S67)  143 

The  utmost  indignation  was  felt  and  expressed  by 
Newman's  friends  at  the  anonymous  attack  in  the  Weekly 
Register,  and  by  many  of  them  at  the  '  secret  instruction  '  on 
the  part  of  Propaganda  against  his  residing  at  Oxford.  This 
*  instruction '  could  not  be  ostensibly  attacked.  But  it  was 
open  to  those  who  desired  to  convey  to  Newman  the  feelings 
it  aroused,  to  express  their  indignation  at  the  anonymous  letter 
in  the  newspapers,  and  their  loyal  devotion  to  him.  And  at 
the  suggestion  of  Mr.  Monsell  this  course  was  adopted.  An 
address  was  presented  to  him  signed  by  upwards  of  two 
hundred  names,  including  nearly  all  the  most  prominent 
members  of  the  English  laity,  and  headed  by  Lord  Edward 
Howard,  the  deputy  Earl  Marshal  and  guardian  to  the  young 
Duke  of  Norfolk. 

The  signatures  were  obtained  with  great  rapidity,  at  a 
meeting  convened  at  the  Stafford  Club  directly  Mr.  Monsell 
had  learnt  the  state  of  the  case,  and  before  it  was  known  to 
Newman  himself,  who  had  not  seen  the  letter  in  the  Weekly 
Register}  It  was  dated,  indeed,  as  will  be  seen,  on  the  very 
day  of  Newman's  memorable  walk  with  Father  Neville  before 
he  received  the  Bishop's  note.     Its  text  ran  as  follows  : 

'To  THE  Very  Rev.  John  Henry  Newman, 

*  We,  the  undersigned,  have  been  deeply  pained  at  some 
anonymous  attacks  which  have  been  made  upon  you.  They 
may  be  of  little  importance  in  themselves,  but  we  feel  that 
every  blow  that  touches  you  inflicts  a  wound  upon  the 
Catholic  Church  in  this  country.  We  hope,  therefore,  that 
you  will  not  think  it  presumptuous  in  us  to  express  our 
gratitude  for  all  we  owe  you,  and  to  assure  you  how  heartily 
we  appreciate  the  services  which,  under  God,  you  have  been 
the  means  of  rendering  to  our  holy  religion. 

'  Signed      The  LORD  Edward  Fitzalan  Howard, 

Deputy  Earl  Marshal  ; 
The  Earl  of  Denbigh,  etc. 

•Stafford  Club,  6th  April  1867.' 

'  The  names  of  Acton,  Simpson,  and  Wetherell  do  not  appear  in  the  address. 
It  was  significant  of  the  general  feeling  against  them  that  Mr.  Monsell  had  to  tell 
Wetherell  that  he  had  abstained  from  asking  for  their  names  at  first  as  their 
presence  in  the  list  would  prevent  others  from  signing.  Mr.  Wetherell  rcjilicd 
that  this  was  equally  a  reason  for  his  declining  to  sign  at  the  last  moment.  Acton 
and  Simpson  were  away  from  England. 


144  LIFE   OF   CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

Newman's  answer  ran  as  follows  : 

'  The  Oratory,  Birmingham  :   I2th  April  1867. 

'  My  dear  Monsell, — I  acknowledge  without  delay  the 
high  honour  done  me  in  the  Memorial  addressed  to  me  by 
so  many  Catholic  noblemen  and  gentlemen,  which  you 
have  been  the  medium  of  conveying  to  me.  The  attacks  of 
opponents  are  never  hard  to  bear  when  the  person  who  is 
the  subject  of  them  is  conscious  to  himself  that  they  are 
undeserved,  but  in  the  present  instance  I  have  small  cause 
indeed  for  pain  or  regret  at  their  occurrence,  since  they  have 
at  once  elicited  in  my  behalf  the  warm  feelings  of  so  many 
dear  friends  who  know  me  well,  and  of  so  many  others 
whose  good  opinion  is  the  more  impartial  for  the  very  reason 
that  I  am  not  personally  known  to  them.  Of  such  men, 
whether  friends  or  strangers  to  me,  I  would  a  hundred 
times  rather  receive  the  generous  sympathy  than  have 
escaped  the  misrepresentations  which  are  the  occasion  of 
their  showing  it. 

'  I  rely  on  you,  my  dear  Monsell,  who  from  long  inti- 
macy understand  me  so  well,  to  make  clear  to  them  my  deep 
and  lasting  gratitude  in  fuller  terms  than  it  is  possible, 
within  the  limit  of  a  formal  acknowledgement,  to  express 
it, —  I  am  ever  your  affectionate  friend, 

'John  H.  Newman.' 

That  this  address  was  disliked  by  the  extreme  party  both 
in  England  and  in  Rome,  we  know  from  an  interesting  ex- 
change of  letters  between  Archbishop  Manning  and  Monsignor 
Talbot.  Manning  had  his  friends  among  the  laity  who  agreed 
with  him  on  the  Oxford  question.  And  it  appears  that  Mr. 
Monsell,  who  at  first  intended  to  refer  directly  to  it  in  the 
address,  had  to  refrain  from  doing  so  in  order  to  gain  im- 
portant signatures.  W.  G.  Ward  objected  to  the  sentence, 
'any  blow  which  touches  you  inflicts  a  wound  upon  the 
Catholic  Church  in  this  country,'  as  clearly  referring  to  the 
blow  Propaganda  had  struck  at  Newman  in  preventing  his 
going  to  Oxford — for  the  Register  letter  could  hardly  be 
treated  as  important  enough  to  warrant  any  such  expression. 
Monsell,  however,  declined  to  change  this  expression,  and 
Ward  did  not  sign  the  address. 

It  is  clear  that  the  Archbishop  was  in  some  alarm  lest  so 
influential  an  address  might  make  Propaganda  waver  in  its 
policy  on  the  Oxford  question,  and  he  wrote  to  Monsignor 
Talbot  with  the  object  of  stiffening  its  back  : 


OXFORD   AGAIN    (1866-1867)  145 

«  8  York  Place,  W.  :   13th  Ap.  1867. 

'  My  dear  Monsignor  Talbot, — You  will  see  in  the  Tablet 
an  address  to  Dr.  Newman  signed  by  most  of  our  chief 
laymen. 

'  The  excessive  and  personal  letter  in  the  W.  Register  has 
caused  it. 

'  I.  The  address  carefully  omits  all  reference  to  Oxford. 

'  2.  It  is  signed  also  by  men  most  opposed  to  our  youth 
going  there,  e.g.  Lord  Petre. 

'3.  But  it  will  be  used,  and  by  some  it  is  intended,  as  a 
means  of  pushing  onward  Dr.  Newman's  going  to  Oxford, 
and  ultimately  the  University  scheme.  I  only  wish  you  to 
be  guarded  against  supposing  the  Address  to  prove  that  the 
signers  are  in  favour  of  the  Oxford  scheme.  Do  not  let 
Propaganda  alarm  itself.  If  it  will  only  ho.  firm  and  clear  we 
shall  get  through  all  this  and  more. 

'  But  if  it  yield  I  cannot  answer  for  the  future. 

*  It  will  be  necessary  to  take  care  that  no  such  letters  from 
Rome  be  sent  to  our  papers.  Can  you  do  anything  ? — 
Always  affectionately  yours, 

'  H.  E.  M.' 

A  second  letter  written  a  week  later  gives  some  further 
particulars  as  to  the  drafting  of  the  address  : 

'8  York  Place,  W.  :  Easter  Monday,  22nd  April  1867. 

'  My  dear  Monsignor  Talbot, — .  .  .  This  Address  of  the 
laity  is  as  you  say  a  revelation  of  the  absence  of  Catholic 
instinct,  and  the  presence  of  a  spirit  dangerous  in  many. 

'  I.  It  was  got  up  by  Mr.  Monsell,  always  in  favour  of  a 
College  in  Oxford,  and  Mr.  Frank  Ward,  whose  son  is  there 
after  preparing  with  Walford  ! 

'  2.  In  the  first  draft  the  Oxford  University  question  was 
expressed.     Many  refused  to  sign. 

'3.  It  was  then  amended  to  "  Oxford  Mission."  They 
refused  still. 

*  4.  It  was  then  reduced  to  its  present  terms,  and  so  got 
them,  not  without  objection. 

'  5.  As  it  stands  it  implies  that  in  Dr.  Newman's  writings 
there  is  nothing  open  to  censure,  and  that  to  touch  him  is  to 
wound  the  Catholic  Church. 

'  But  if  Rome  should  touch  him  ? 

*  The  whole  movement  is  sustained  by  those  who  wish  young 
Catholics  to  go  to  Oxford. 

'The    Bishop    of   l^irmingham,    I    must  suppose    uncon- 
sciously, has    been    used    by  them.     It    is  a  great   crisis   of 
VOL.  II.  L 


146  LIFE   OF   CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

danger  to  him.     Only  do  not  let  him  alarm  Propaganda  by 
the  names  and  number  of  these  lay  signatures. 

'  Many  have  declared  to  me  that  they  are  as  strong  against 
Oxford  as  I  am. 

'  The  moment  this  point  is  raised  the  Address  will  go  to 
pieces, 

'  I  have  taken  care  to  clear  you  of  all  relation  to 
Mr.  Martin,  and  you  may  rely  upon  my  not  wavering. 
The  affair  is  full  of  pain,  but  even  this  will  work  for  good, 

*  Pray  place  me  at  the  feet  of  His  Holiness,  and  offer  my 
thanks  for  providing  a  home  so  near  to  his  own  side,  and  by 
the  Apostles. 

'  Once  more  thanking  you,  believe  me,  always  affectionately 
yours, 

'  H.  E.  M.' 

W,  G.  Ward  was  in  correspondence  with  Mgr.  Talbot,  and 
both  in  writing  to  him  and  in  a  letter  published  in  the  Weekly 
Register  expressed  the  criticism  on  the  address  to  which  I 
have  already  referred.  Mgr.  Talbot  wrote  something  of  a 
scolding  to  Manning,  of  whose  firmness  he  on  his  side  appeared 
to  have  some  doubts  : 

'Vatican:  25th  April,  1867. 

'  My  dear  Archbishop, — I  cannot  help  writing  to  you 
again  about  the  address  of  the  English  laity.  Although  I 
am  the  first  to  condemn  the  correspondent  of  the  Weekly 
Register  for  touching  on  such  a  delicate  matter,  I  look  upon  the 
address  of  the  English  laity  as  the  most  offensive  production 
that  has  appeared  in  England  since  the  times  of  Dr.  Milner, 
and  if  a  check  be  not  placed  on  the  laity  of  England  they 
will  be  the  rulers  of  the  Catholic  Church  in  England  instead 
of  the  Holy  See  and  the  Episcopate. 

'It  is  perfectly  true  that  a  cloud  has  been  hanging  over 
Dr.  Newman  in  Rome  ever  since  the  Bishop  of  Newport 
delated  him  to  Rome  for  heresy  in  his  article  in  the 
Rambler  on  consulting  the  laity  on  matters  of  faith.  None 
of  his  writings  since  have  removed  that  cloud.  Every  one  of 
them  has  created  a  controversy,  and  the  spirit  of  them  has 
never  been  approved  in  Rome.  Now  that  a  set  of  laymen 
with  Mr.  Monsell  at  their  head  should  have  the  audacity  to 
say  that  a  blow  that  touches  Dr.  Newman  is  a  wound  inflicted 
on  the  Catholic  Church  in  England,  is  an  insult  offered  to 
the  Holy  See,  to  Your  Grace  and  all  who  have  opposed  his 
Oxford  scheme,  in  consequence  of  his  having  quietly  en- 
couraged young   men  going  to  the  University,  by  means  of 


OXFORD   AGAIN    (1S66-1S67)  147 

his  school,  and  by  preparing  two  men,  a  fact  which  he  does 
not  deny. 

'  But  I  think  that  even  his  going  to  Oxford,  which  will 
induce  many  of  the  young  Catholic  nobility  and  aristocracy 
to  follow,  is  of  minor  importance  to  the  attitude  assumed  by 
the  Stafford  Club  and  the  laity  of  England. 

'  They  are  beginning  to  show  the  cloven  foot,  which  I 
have  seen  the  existence  of  for  a  long  time.  They  are  only 
putting  into  practice  the  doctrine  taught  by  Dr.  Newman 
in  his  article  in  the  Rambler.  They  wish  to  govern  the 
Church  in  England  by  public  opinion,  and  Mr,  Monsell  is  the 
most  dangerous  man  amongst  them. 

*  What  is  the  province  of  the  laity  .-*  To  hunt,  to  shoot, 
to  entertain.  These  matters  they  understand,  but  to  meddle 
with  ecclesiastical  matters  they  have  no  right  at  all,  and 
this  affair  of  Newman  is  a  matter  purely  ecclesiastical. 

*  There  is,  however,  one  layman  an  exception  to  all  rule, 
because  he  is  really  a  theologian.  I  mean  Dr.  Ward.  His 
letter  is  admirable,  and  he  has  attacked  the  address  of  the 
laity  in  its  most  vulnerable  point. 

'  I  was  much  pained  to  see  the  name  of  Lord  Petre 
amongst  those  who  subscribed  their  names.  No  doubt  he  did 
not  fully  see  the  bearings  of  the  address,  because  I  am  told 
that  he  has  the  highest  regard  for  ecclesiastical  authority. 

'  Dr.  Newman  is  the  most  dangerous  man  in  England, 
and  you  will  see  that  he  will  make  use  of  the  laity 
against  your  Grace.  You  must  not  be  afraid  of  him.  It  will 
require  much  prudence,  but  you  must  be  firm,  as  the  Hoi)' 
Father  still  places  his  confidence  in  you  ;  but  if  you  yield 
and  do  not  fight  the  battle  of  the  Holy  See  against  the 
detestable  spirit  growing  up  in  England,  he  will  begin  to 
regret  Cardinal  Wiseman,  who  knew  how  to  keep  the  laity 
in  order.  I  tell  you  all  this  in  confidence,  because  I  already 
begin  to  hear  some  whisperings  which  might  become  serious. 
I  am  your  friend  and  defend  you  every  day,  but  you  know 
[Cardinal  Barnabo]  as  well  as  I  do,  and  how  ready  he  is  to 
throw  the  blame  of  everything  on  others.  .  .  , 

'  Dr.  Ullathorne  has  been  the  cause  of  the  whole  mischief 
If  he  had  only  obeyed  the  letter  of  Propaganda  and  com- 
municated to  Dr.  Newman  the  inhibition  placed  to  his  going 
to  Oxford,  he  could  not  have  sent  forth  a  circular  saying  that 
the  whole  Oxford  project  had  the  approbation  of  the  Holy 
See. 

'  Of  course  your  suffragans  are  frightened  by  the  address 
of  the  laity.     You  will    find  yourself  much  in  the  position 

L  2 


148  LIFE   OF   CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

of  Dr.  Milner.  I  hope  the  clergy  will  not  adopt  the  Rev. 
Mr.  Waterworth's  suggestion  of  getting  up  an  address  to 
Dr.  Newman.  That  would  make  matters  worse.  Adieu. — 
Believe  me  affectionately  yours, 

'Geo.  Talbot.' 
Archbishop  Manning  thus  replied  : 

«  8  York  Place  :  3rd  May  1867. 

'  My  dear  Talbot, — I  have  not  been  influenced  by  fear  or 
by  neutrality,  but  by  the  following  motives.     I  believe — 

'  I,  That  my  first  duty  and  work  is  to  restore  unity  and 
concord  among  the  bishops  ;  and  that  this  is  vital,  and  above 
all  other  things  necessary. 

'  2.  That  to  get  the  bishops  to  act  unanimously,  as  above 
stated,  is  a  double  gain. 

'  3.  That  the  only  way  to  counteract  the  unsound  opinions 
now  rising  among  us  is  to  keep  the  English  bishops  perfectly 
united. 

'4,  That  it  would  be  fatal  if  the  Stafford  Club  laymen 
could  divide  us,  and  get  an  Episcopal  leader. 

'  5.  That  towards  Dr.  Newman  my  strongest  course  is  to 
act  in  perfect  union  with  the  bishops,  so  that  what  I  do, 
they  do. 

'  6.  That  to  this  end  the  greatest  prudence  and  circum- 
spection is  necessary.  A  word  or  act  of  mine  towards 
Dr.  Newman  might  divide  the  bishops  and  throw  some  on 
his  side. 

'  7.  That  the  chief  aim  of  the  Anglicans  has  been  to  set 
Dr.  Newman  and  myself  in  conflict.  For  five  years  papers, 
reviews,  pamphlets  without  number,  have  endeavoured  to 
do  so. 

'  8.  That  a  conflict  between  him  and  me  would  be  as  great 
a  scandal  to  the  Church  in  England,  and  as  great  a  victory 
to  the  Anglicans,  as  could  be. 

'  For  all  these  reasons  I  am  glad  that  Cardinal  B"  lays  on 
me  the  responsibility  of  the  permission  given  to  Dr.  Newman 
to  go  to  Oxford,  and  says  that  I  did  it  "  to  serve  an  old 
friend."  This  has  given  me  untold  strength  here  at  this 
time. 

'  I  would  ask  you  to  make  the  substance  of  this  letter 
known  where  alone  I  feel  anxious  to  be  understood.  I  have 
acted  upon  the  above  line  with  the  clearest  and  most  evident 
reasons.  And  I  believe  you  will  see  when  we  meet  that  I 
should  have  acted  unwisely  in  any  other  way.  We  shall 
have  a  trying  time,  but  if  the  bishops  are  united  nothing  can 
hurt  us. 


OXFORD   AGAIN    (1866-1867)  149 

'  Dr.  Ullathorne  has  printed  a  statement  of  the  Oxford 
affair,  and  sent  a  copy  to  Dr.  Neve'  for  Propaganda.  Mind 
you  see  it.  It  is  fatal  to  Dr.  Ullathorne's  prudence,  and  to 
Dr.  Newman's  going  to  Oxford. 

'  Fr.  Ryder  of  the  Edgbaston  Oratory  has  pubHshed  an 
attack  on  Ward's  book  on  Encyclicals.  Dr.  Newman  sent  it  to 
Ward  with  a  letter  adopting  it,  and  saying  that  he  was  glad 
to  leave  behind  him  young  men  to  maintain  these  principles. 

'  This  is  opportune,  but  very  sad. — Always  affectionately 

yours, 

'  H.  E.  M.' 

These  letters  reveal  a  state  of  feeling  among  active  and 
influential  counsellors  of  the  Holy  See  in  England,  which 
made  Newman's  determination  to  take  active  steps  to  defend 
himself  in  Rome  most  necessary. 

Newman  forthwith  drew  up  and  sent  to  Ambrose  St.  John 
the  following  vieniorandiini  expressing  his  precise  views  on 
the  Oxford  question,  in  order  to  make  misrepresentation 
impossible  : 

'  I  say  in  the  first  place  that  no  one  in  authority  has  ever 
up  to  this  time  asked  my  opinion  on  the  subject,  and  there- 
fore I  never  have  had  formally  to  make  up  my  mind  on  it. 

'  Next,  I  have  ever  held,  said,  and  written,  that  the  normal 
and  legitimate  proceeding  is  to  send  youths  to  a  Catholic 
University,  that  their  religion,  science,  and  literature  may  go 
together. 

'  I  have  thought  there  were  positive  dangers  to  faith  and 
morals  in  going  to  Oxford. 

'  But  I  have  thought  there  were  less  and  fewer  dangers, 
in  an  Oxford  residence,  to  faith  and  morals,  than  there  arc 
at  Woolwich,  where  the  standard  of  moral  and  social  duty  is 
necessarily  unchristian,  as  being  simply  secular,  than  there 
are  at  Sandhurst,  or  in  London — and  especially  for  this 
reason,  that  there  is  some  really  religious  and  moral  super- 
intendence at  Oxford,  and  none  at  Woolwich  or  in  London. 

'  That  the  question  then  lies  in  a  choice  of  difficulties,  a 
Catholic  University  being  impossible. 

'  And  that  necessity  has  no  laws. 

'  That,  as  to  the  question  whether  Catholic  youths  should 
go  to  Protestant  Colleges  at  Oxford,  or  that  a  Catholic 
College  should  be  established,  abstractedly  a  Catholic  College 

'  The  Rector  of  the  English  College  in  Rome. 


I50  LIFE   OF   CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

would  be  the  better  plan,  for  in  that  case  they  would  re- 
ceive unmixed  (Catholic)  not  mixed  education, — but  I  have 
thought  greater  difficulties  would  in  practice  attend  the 
establishment  of  a  Catholic  College. 

'  That,  under  the  circumstances,  what  I  thought  best  was 
to  leave  things  as  they  had  been  heretofore  ;  that  is,  not  to 
forbid  Catholic  youths  going  to  Oxford,  but  to  protect  them 
by  the  presence  of  a  strong  Catholic  Mission,  such  as  a  com- 
munity of  priests  would  secure. 

'  That  I  had  ever  been  strong  against  a  prohibition,  as 
putting  too  great  a  temptation  to  disobey  ecclesiastical 
authority  in  the  way  of  the  laity. 

'  But  that  this  did  not  mean  that  I  had  ever  positively 
advocated,  or  now  advocate,  Catholic  youths  going  to 
Oxford,  but  that  I  wished  the  matter  decided  in  each  case,  as 
it  came,  on  its  own  merits ;  and  I  certainly  thought  that  a 
residence  in  Oxford  would  be  a  great  advantage  to  certain 
youths,  if  you  could  pick  them. 

'  I  added  that,  as  to  myself,  I  have  ever  stated  and 
avowed  to  our  Bishop:  (i)  that  my  going  would  draw 
Catholics  there,  (2)  if  there  were  not  Catholics  there,  I 
should  be  at  much  disadvantage  as  seeming  to  go  there 
directly  to  convert  Protestants.  Accordingly  (3)  I  had  ever 
been  unwilling  to  go  there.' 

Armed  with  this  document,  Fathers  .St.  John  and  Bittle- 
ston  arrived  in  Rome  at  the  end  of  April  as  Newman's  am- 
bassadors. Their  mission  and  its  results  shall  be  described 
in  another  chapter. 

No'iE. — Readei's  who  desire  to  go  further  into  the  details  of  the  ecclesiastical 
situation  at  this  time  will  find  much  correspondence  to  interest  them  at  pp.  313 
scq.  of  the  second  volume  of  Purcell's  Life  of  Cardinal  Mainiiitg. 


CHAPTER   XXV 

THE   APPEAL   TO   ROME    (1867) 

The  true  sting  of  the  '  secret  instruction '  lay  in  the  inter- 
pretation which  was  being  put  on  it  by  many,  and  not  dis- 
claimed in  authoritative  quarters — that  Newman's  residence 
in  Oxford  was  feared  in  Rome  because  of  the  influence  it 
would  give  him  in  disseminating  his  theological  views. 
And  these  views  were  represented  as  more  or  less  akin  to 
the  worldly  Catholicism,  the  semi-Catholicism  (as  it  was 
regarded)  of  the  now  extinct  Home  and  Foreign  Review. 
This  impression  as  to  his  '  minirnistic '  theology — to  use  the 
slang  phrase  of  the  day — was  being  confirmed  by  VV.  G. 
Ward's  articles  in  the  Dublin  Review,  in  which  he  insisted  on 
his  own  analysis  of  the  extent  of  Papal  Infallibility  as  the 
only  orthodox  one.  These  articles  were  republished  in  1866 
in  a  volume  entitled  '  The  Authority  of  Doctrinal  Decisions.' 
With  this  volume  Newman  was  known  not  to  agree. 
He  thought  it  unhistorical  and  untheological.  Yet  in  the 
temper  of  those  times  there  was  a  disposition  to  regard  the 
theory  which  ascribed  most  power  to  the  Pope,  as  indicat- 
ing the  most  whole-hearted  Catholic  orthodoxy. '  Manning 
gave  his  support  to  the  Dublin  theory  ;  more  especially  to  its 
maintenance  of  the  infallible  certainty  of  the  teaching  of  the 
'  Syllabus,'  and  consequently  of  the  necessity  of  the  Temporal 
Power  of  the  Papacy,  on  which  that  document  insisted. 
Mr.  Martin's  letter  in  the  Weekly  Register  intimated  (as  we 
have  seen)  that  suspicion  of  Newman's  orthodoxy  was  at 
the  root  of  the  objection  entertained  at  Rome  to  his  residence 
in  Oxford.  Newman  from  the  first  saw  that  this  would  at 
least  be  generally  supposed,  and  realised  the  evil  conse- 
quences of  such  a  supposition.     If  he  were  under  a  cloud,  if  his 

'  See  Newman's  words  cited  in  Vol.  I.,  p.  572. 


152  LIFE   OF   CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

views  were  supposed  to  be  seriously  suspect,  how  could  he 

work  with  any  good  effect  as  the  champion  of  the  Church  in 

Oxford  ?  Ever  cautious  in  action,  he  did  not  finally  decide  to 

postpone  any  further  step  in  the  Oxford  question,  without 

first  consulting  Hope-Scott.      His  feelings  are  presented  in 

two  letters    to   Hope-Scott.     The    first   was   written  on  the 

very  day  on  which    he  learnt  the  existence  of  the   '  secret 

instruction ' : 

'April  6th,  1867. 

'  The  real  difficulty  is  this — what  is  the  worth  of  my  voice 
at  Oxford  if  I  am  under  a  cloud  ?  Already  the  Protestant 
periodicals  have  said  that  I  am  not  a  sound  Catholic.  I  am 
told  so  every  day.  If  my  opponents  can  succeed  in  getting 
the  Pope  to  grant  an  inquiry,  and  keep  it  hanging  over  my 
head  for  two  years,  it  will  be  enough.  I  am  for  two  years 
unauthoritative  and  worthless.  At  the  end  of  two  years  I 
may  be  past  work,  or  anyhow  I  go  to  my  work  with  a  suspicion 
on  me  which  an  acquittal  will  not  wipe  off.  If  then  I  take 
the  Oxford  Mission  in  the  second  week  after  Easter,  I  am 
simply  putting  my  foot  into  it,  and  entangling  myself  with  a 
responsibility  and  a  controversy  without  any  corresponding 
advantage.  I  have  several  weeks  yet  before  I  need  determine 
— and  various  things  may  happen  before  then — but  I  must 
be  prepared  with  my  decision  by  May  5  th,  and  there  is  not 
too  much  time  to  have  a  view  on  the  matter.' 

'April  nth,  1867. 

'  I  assure  you  the  letter  in  the  Weekly  Register  was 
no  laughing  matter — the  whole  Catholic  public  has  been 
moved.  Some  friends  in  London  are  moving  to  get  up  an 
address  to  me.  The  Paper  is  to  make  a  formal  apology  next 
Saturday.  It  has  been  a  most  happy  letting  the  cat  out 
of  the  bag.  If  you  were  in  the  controvei^sy^  you  would  see 
that  the  one  answer  flung  in  my  teeth  is  that  Manning  is 
of  one  religion  and  I  of  another.  If  such  a  letter  as  that  in 
the  Weekly  Register  was  allowed  to  pass,  I  should  be  in  a 
very  false  position  at  Oxford.  The  Bishop  at  first  thought 
the  secret  opposition  so  serious  that  he  wanted  me  last 
Christmas  to  postpone  any  measures  at  Oxford  for  six 
months,  and  it  was  mainly  your  advice  to  begin  immediately 
which  made  me  move  sooner. 

'  Then  again  you  don't  understand  the  doctrinal  difficulty. 
There  is  a  great  attempt  by  W.  G.  Ward,  Dr.  Murray  of 
Maynooth,  and  Father  Schrader,  the  Jesuit  of  Rome  and 
Vienna,  to  bring  in  a  new  theory  of  Papal  Infallibility,  which 


THE   APPEAL  TO  ROME   (1867)  153 

would  make  it  a  mortal  sin,  to  be  visited  by  damnation,  not 
to  hold  the  Temporal  Power  necessary  to  the  Papacy.  No 
one  answers  them  and  multitudes  are  being  carried  away, — 
the  Pope,  I  should  fear,  gives  ear  to  them,  and  the  con- 
sequence is  there  is  a  very  extreme  prejudice  in  the  highest 
quarters  at  Rome  against  such  as  me.  I  cannot  take  Oxford 
unless  I  am  allowed  full  liberty  to  be  there  or  here,  and  unless 
I  have  an  assurance  that  there  are  no  secret  instructions 
anywhere.  Of  course  I  write  all  this  in  order  to  get  your 
opinion, — but  I  don't  think  you  have  a  view  of  the  facts.' 

Hope-Scott  was  now  more  alive  to  the  situation,  and 
counselled  at  all  events  a  suspension  of  operations  as  to  the 
Oxford  Oratory.  The  evil  must  be  dealt  with  at  its  source. 
Newman  informed  him  that  Ambrose  St.  John  and  Bittleston 
were  on  their  way  to  Rome.  Hope-Scott  was  sanguine  that 
Rome  would  be  thoroughly  satisfied  with  their  explanations, 
and  could  even  be  got  to  approve  of  Newman's  being  sent  to 
Oxford  for  the  purpose  of  working  there  against  the  infidelity 
of  the  day.  To  any  attempt  to  secure  such  approval,  Newman, 
however,  was  opposed  ;  the  idea  would  not  appeal  to  Rome, 
he  thought,  and  anyhow  he  did  not  wish  himself  to  ask  to  be 
sent  to  Oxford  on  any  ground.  But  that  his  loyalty  and 
orthodoxy  should  be  fully  vindicated  in  Rome  he  was  most 
anxious,  and  the  Oxford  plan  itself  would  be  a  matter  for 
further  consideration  when  the  issue  of  St.  John's  mission 
on  this  head  was  known.  Newman  was  indignant  that  his 
loyalty  to  the  Holy  See  should  be  impeached  by  anyone. 
He  welcomed  Father  Ignatius  Ryder's  forthcoming  pamphlet 
in  reply  to  W.  G.  Ward,  now  on  the  eve  of  publication,  as 
a  protest,  backed  by  most  weighty  theological  authority, 
against  making  loyalty  synonymous  with  extreme  theories 
which  the  most  careful  students  of  history  and  theology 
could  not  accept.  Moreover,  while  the  Pope  and  his 
entourage — what  Newman  called  the  political  party  in 
Rome — had  given  some  encouragement  to  Ward,  the  best 
Roman  theologians  were  known  to  have  rejected  many 
of  his  statements.  Anyhow,  Newman  seems  to  have  been 
anxious  that  his  double  protest — in  England  through  Ryder, 
in  Rome  through  Fr.  Ambrose  St.  John— should  come 
without  further    delay.     His    two    letters    of   instruction    to 


T54  T.IFE   OF   CARDINAL    NEWMAN 

Ambrose  St.  John  (to  which  there  is  reference  in  theiv 
correspondence)  I  have  not  found  ;  but  their  purport  is 
apparent  from  St.  John's  own  letters.  That  feehng  ran 
high,  and  very  high,  is  plain.  To  omit  all  the  expressions 
of  strong  feeling  would  be  to  take  the  life  and  reality  out 
of  the  correspondence.  I  therefore  give  it  without  material 
abridgment. 

The  first  of  Newman's  letters  which  is  extant  is  the 
following  : 

To  Father  A.  St.  John. 

'The  Oratory,  Birmingham  :  April  28th,  1867. 

'  My  dear  Ambrose, — We  had  the  letter  and  telegram 
from  Marseilles.  I  wrote  to  you  on  Tuesday  a  letter  to  the 
Collegio  Inglese,  which  must  have  travelled  in  the  same  boat 
as  you.  You  will  get  it  with  the  one  I  sent  about  a  week 
ago. 

'  Also,  I  wish  you  to  get  me  a  Cameo,  from  los.  to  i/.,  if 
possible,  say  a  broocJi  for  a  present  to  one  of  the  K.'s  who  is 
going  to  be  married.  I  would  rather  have  small  and  good 
than  large. 

'  Also,  I  think  it  would  be  a  considerable  saving  if  you  got 
a  number  of  really  good  medals  blessed  by  the  Pope,  as  prizes 
for  the  boys  instead  of  books.  No  one  reads  a  prize  book 
lest  he  should  spoil  it.  Also  if  you  could  get  some  really 
good  religious  prints,  to  be  blessed  by  the  Pope,  for  the  same 
purpose.  I  should  say  the  subjects  of  medals  and  pictures 
should  be  St.  Peter  and  St.  Paul  ;  St.  Philip  ;  Our  Lady  ; 
Crucifixion  ;  Madonna  &  Child,  &c.,  &c.  Also,  I  think  you 
might  get  a  number  of  Pagan  things  cheaper  and  more 
lasting  than  books — such  as  wolf-articles  in  giallo  or  rosso 
antiquo,  &c.     But  in  mentioning  the  idea  I  have  said  enough. 

'  I  suppose  Ignatius's  pamphlet  will  be  out  to-morrow. 
Besides  Bellasis  saying  it  will  make  a  row,  Stanislas  writes 
saying  he  hopes  it  will  be  delayed  till  after  your  return,  and 
Pope  wishes  delay.  But  I  think  it  had  better  come  out — what 
harm  can  it  do  ?  I  shall  by  it  be  making  capital  out  of  the 
signatures  to  the  address.  Of  course  you  may  have  it  thrown 
in  your  teeth,  that  an  awful  pamphlet  has  come  out  from 
the  Birmingham  Oratory  with  a  great  flourish  of  lies — but 
we  don't  want  to  get  anything,  and  my  monkey  is  up.  If 
there  is  anything  [unsound]  in  it,  which  I  do  not  think  there 
is,  we  must  withdraw  it.  As  to  clamour  and  slander,  who- 
ever opposes  the  three  Tailors  of  Tooley  Street,  [Manning, 


THE   APPEAL  TO   ROME   (1867)  155 

Ward,  and  Vaughan]  must  incur  a  gTcal  deal,  must  suffer,   - 
but  it  is  worth  the  suffering  if  we  effectually  oppose  them.  .  . 

'  As  to  Hope-Scott's  notion  of  your  trying  to  get  me  to 
Oxford  to  oppose  infidelity,  it  won't  hold  ;  (i)  because  if  I 
ask  to  go  to  Oxford  for  any  purpose,  I  take  up  a  new  position 
— I  never  have  asked  to  go  there,  the  Bishop  has  asked  me  ; 
nor  have  I  any  dealings  with  Propaganda,  but  the  Bishop 
with  it.  (2)  As  if  they  cared  a  jot  to  keep  Protestant 
Oxford  from  becoming  infidel  !  As  if  they  did  not  think 
Protestantism  and  Infidelity  synonymous  ! ' 

To  THE  Same. 

'  May  3rd,  1867. 

'  Your  welcome  letter,  notifying  your  arrival  at  Rome,  got 
here  on  Wednesday  at  noon. 

'  I  have  just  had  a  letter  from  Father  Perrone,  so  very 
kind  that  you  must  call  on  him  and  thank  him.  He  says 
he  always  defends  me.  Also  Father  Cardella  said  Mass  for 
me  on  St.  Leo's  day.     Thank  him  too. 

'  Ignatius's  Pamphlet  is  just  out,  but  we  do  not  hear 
anything  about  it  yet. 

'  If  it  ever  comes  to  this,  that  you  can  venture  to  speak  to 
Barnabo  on  the  secret  instruction,  you  must  say  that  people 
gave  money  to  the  Church  on  the  express  condition,  as  the 
main  point,  that  I  should  reside  a  great  deal  in  Oxford. 
Hence  his  precious  instruction  made  me  unwittingly  collect 
money  on  false  pretences.  Far  as  it  was  from  the  intentions 
of  the  Most  Eminent  Prince,  he  co-operated  in  a  fraud. 
Distil  this  "  blande  suaviterque  "  into  his  ears. 

'  A.  B.  has  been  here.  He  says  I  should  have  had  an 
address  from  the  clergy,  but  Manning  and  Patterson 
stopped  it  on  the  [ilea  that  it  would  be  thought  at  Rome 
to  be  dictating.  He  speaks  of  the  clique  having  had  two 
blows, —  (i)  my  leave  to  found  an  Oxford  Oratory;  (2)  Mr. 
Martin's  letter.  Heavy  blows  both.  C.  D.  reeling  under 
the  first,  went  to  Oakeley  and  blew  up  Propaganda.  Ward 
writes  to  Dr.  Ives  that  what  they  have  to  oppose  in  England, 
as  their  great  mischief,  is  Father  Newman.  He  has  written 
to  Monsell  that  there  are  "  vital  "  differences  between  us.  Is 
not  this  the  Evangelical  "  vital  religion  "  all  over  ?  and  is  he 
not  dividing  Catholics  into  nominal  Christians  and  vital 
Christians  as  much  as  an  Evangelical  could  do  in  the 
Church  of  England  ?  A.  B.  says  that  Vaughan  is  sent  by 
Ward  to  Rome, — he  has  now  got  back.  .  .  .  Ward  says  that 
he  loves  me  so,  that  he  should  like  to  pass  an  eternity  with 


156  LIFE  OF  CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

me,  but  that  whenever  he  sees  Manning  he  makes  him  creep 
— (I  have  not  his  exact  words) — yet  that  Manning  has  the 
truth  and  I  have  not.  A.  B.  thinks  that  Manning  will  throw 
Ward  over— that  is,  next  time. 

*  Ward  has  answered  my  present  of  Ignatius'  pamphlet. 
He  complains  of  its  personalities — of  its  referring  to  the 
"  Ideal."  [His  letter]  is  very  mild  and  kind,  and  has  melted 
Ignatius  somewhat — but  it  says  that,  in  spite  of  his  personal 
liking  for  me,  we  must  regard  each  other  in  a  public  point 
of  view  with  "  the  greatest  aversion  "  ;  and  we  belong  to 
"  different  religions  "  !  Finally  he  invokes  an  ecclesiastical 
decision.  No  decision  can  make  us  "  of  different  religions." 
Is  it  not  vital  Christianity  all  over  ? ' ' 

How  Father  St.  John  and  Father  Bittleston  prospered 
with  their  task  in  Rome  is  best  shown  in  their  own  letters. 
Their  reception  was  cordial  on  all  hands.  The  Holy  Father 
had  been  apprised  of  their  mission  and  its  object,  and  had 
passed  his  all-powerful  word  that  the  greatest  kindness  must 
be  shown  in  all  that  regarded  Newman.  The  letters  make  it 
clear  that  the  atmosphere  in  Rome  was  far  more  favourable 

'  Newman  adds  the  following  postscriptum  : 

'  May  4.  The  Bishop  has  just  sent  me  the  opening  words  of  the  Letter  of  the 
Episcopal  Meeting  to  Propaganda.  "  The  Bishops  have  strenuously  laboured  to 
give  effect  to  the  principles  which  they  themselves  have  inculcated  as  to  the 
perils  of  mixed  education — and  although  some  twelve  youths  from  Ireland,  the 
Colonies,  or  England,  have  entered  the  University  from  our  Colleges,  yet  of  the 
whole,  one  only  of  the  number  had  been  educated  in  the  Oratory  School  of 
Birmingham, — and  it  is  to  be  trusted  that  all  of  them  have  remained  firm  and 
strong  in  their  faith.  It  is  not,  however,  the  less  certain  that  the  arguments 
which  the  late  eminent  Archbishop  and  the  Bishops  laid  before  Propaganda, 
Dec.  I3lh,  1864,  continue  in  all  their  strength,  and  have  received  new  force 
from  subsequent  experience."  Observe  (i)  it  almost  seems,  judging  from  this 
extract,  as  if  the  Bishops  were  not  prohibiting  Oxford, ^ — but  perhaps  the 
"  Declarations  "  from  Rome  will  be  published  forbidding.  (2)  they  are  too  fair 
to  us  in  saying  that  only  one  Oxford  man  has  been  educated  by  us — for  R.  Ward 
has  been.  {3)  I  shall  answer  the  Bishop  saying  that  I  suppose  now  Propaganda 
will  not  take  an  exceptional  course  with  us — but  will  apply  the  "directe  vel 
indirecte  "  to  all  the  Colleges  or  none.  (4)  Dean  brings  a  report  that  the  Jesuits 
are  to  have  a  sort  of  "Collegium  Romanum  "  in  London.  This  may  be 
intended  to  justify  a  prohibition. 

'  May  5th.  I  have  answered  the  Bishop  thus  :  "I  trust  Cardinal  Barnabo 
will  no  longer  think  it  necessary  to  make  my  case  an  exceptional  one,  and  to 
impose  on  me  personally  an  obligation  which  he  has  imposed  on  no  other  priest 
in  England,  viz.  to  be  careful  lo  have  nothing  to  do  directly  or  indirectly  with 
preparing  youths  for  Oxford.  To  avoid  indirectly  preparing  them  for  Oxford 
I  must  either  shut  up  the  School  or  teach  the  boys  Latin  and  Greek  badly." ' 


THE   APPEAL   TO   ROME    (1867)  157 

to  Newman  than  that  in  the  extremist  circles  in  England. 
Indeed,  the  Roman  officials  were  evidently  disposed  to 
regard  the  Englishmen  on  both  sides  as  quarrelsome 
'  cranks '  who  made  much  ado  about  nothing.  All  that  was 
insisted  on  was  that  the  Roman  decrees  against  mixed  edu- 
cation should  be  attended  to,  and  no  encouragement  given 
to  Catholics  to  go  to  Oxford.  These  decrees  formed  part 
of  a  large  policy  on  which  Rome  had  decided  for  English- 
speaking  Catholics  at  the  time  of  the  foundation  of  the 
Queen's  Colleges  in  Ireland.  Indeed,  this  policy  had  been 
the  raison  d'etre  of  the  Catholic  University  at  Dublin. 
It  was  being  pursued  throughout  Christendom  (as  we  have 
already  seen)  in  primary  and  secondary  education  alike.  Its 
object  was  to  make  sure  of  a  thoroughly  Catholic  education 
for  all  the  faithful  in  a  day  of  indififerentism.  The  Church 
was  becoming  once  more,  as  in  Apostolic  times,  only  a  '  little 
flock,'  and  Catholics  must  make  up  in  whole-hearted  zeal  and 
esprit  de  corps  for  what  they  lacked  in  numbers.  Cardinal 
Barnabo  appeared  ready  to  take  the  most  favourable  view 
of  all  Newman's  actions  past  and  present,  provided  that 
the  opposition  of  the  Holy  See  to  mixed  education  was 
respected  ;  and  he  considerably  mollified  St.  John  by  his 
friendly  language.  Newman,  however,  declined  to  share  in 
any  such  gentler  sentiments.  Monsignor  Talbot,  after  some 
meetings  in  which  he  betrayed  embarrassment,  became  in  the 
end  wholly  friendly.  William  Palmer,  brother  of  Roundell 
Palmer  (afterwards  Lord  Selborne),  a  convert  and  a  friend  of 
Newman,  was  in  Rome,  and  helped  the  Oratory  Fathers  in 
various  ways. 

The  only  substantial  charge  against  Newman  was  that 
he  had  declined  to  explain  or  retract  his  Ravibler  article  on 
'  Consulting  the  Faithful  on  matters  of  Doctrine,'  which  had 
'  given  pain  '  to  the  Pope.  The  article  had  been  regarded  as 
maintaining  that  the  '  teaching  Church '  had  in  the  fifth 
century  in  some  way  failed  in  performing  its  functions :  and 
such  a  contention  was  unorthodox.  Against  the  above  charge 
Newman's  defence  was  quite  conclusive :  he  had  formally 
written  to  Cardinal  Wiseman,  who  was  in  Rome  when  the 
charge  was  made,  offering  to  explain  the  passages  objected 
to  if  the  accusation  was  formulated,  and  not  left  as  a  vague 


158  LIFE   OF  CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

charge  of  '  error '  without  specification  as  to  what  orthodox 
doctrines  the  article  had  impugned.  But  Manning  had  after- 
wards given  him  a  semi-official  notification  that  no  further 
explanation  was  required.  It  looked,  on  the  other  hand,  as 
if  the  original  objection  to  the  article  had  been  an  instance 
of  what  tried  Newman  so  much,  making  the  vague  impression 
produced  by  it  on  the  casual  reader — whose  knowledge  of 
theology,  or  even  of  English,  might  be  imperfect — the  test 
of  its  orthodoxy.  These  were  the  ways  of  diplomats,  not  of 
theologians.  '  It  created  a  bad  impression  '  was  the  phrase  cur- 
rent at  Rome.  Newman  was  supposed  to  have  preferred  a 
serious  charge  against  the  Ecclesia  Docens  ;  and  to  do  so  argued 
at  least  a  want  of  loyalty  to  the  Holy  See.  Serious  historical 
studies  could  not  be  carried  on  if  the  accuracy  of  their  con- 
clusions was  measured  by  such  a  test.  Any  treatment  of 
history  which  made  for  the  power  of  the  Popes,  however 
unscientific  or  false  to  fact  it  might  be,  created  in  this  sense 
a  '  good  impression  ' ;  all,  however  undeniably  true,  which 
showed  that  Popes  or  Bishops  had  made  mistakes,  made  a 
'bad  impression.'  In  such  an  atmosphere  the  most  imme- 
diately effective  retort  to  his  accusers  was  the  one  chosen  by 
Ambrose  St.  John,  that  such  a  highly  approved  historian  as 
Baronius  had  recognised  as  historical  facts  certain  deficien- 
cies in  the  action  of  the  members  of  the  Teaching  Church 
in  the  past.  If  the  busy  practical  officials  were  perhaps 
no  more  familiar  with  Baronius  than  with  Newman,  such 
long-acknowledged  authority  as  that  of  the  great  Roman 
Oratorian  and  Cardinal  sufficed  as  a  guarantee  of  orthodoxy. 

The  following  letters  narrate  the  proceedings  of  the 
Fathers  in-  Rome  from  the  first  interview  with  Cardinal 
Barnabo  on  April  30,  to  the  audience  with  the  Holy  Father 
on  May  4  : 

P\\THER  Henry  Bittleston  to  Dr.  Newman. 

'  Hotel  Minerva,  Rome  :  April  30th,  1867. 

'My  dear  Father, —  I  don't  know  how  much  Ambrose  has 
told  you  of  his  talks  with  Neve,  Bishop  Brown,  and  Palmer, 
but  having  learnt  that  Cardinal  Barnabo  would  be  at  Pro- 
paganda this  morning  at  ten  o'clock,  thither  he  proceeded, 
carrying  a  book  for  Monsignor  Capalti  from  the  Nunziatura 
at  Paris,  and,  before  finding  the  Secretary,  he  stumbled  (I  am 


THE    APPEAL   TO    ROME   (1867)  159 

copying  from  Ambrose's  journal)  on  the  Cardinal  himself  who 
said,  laughing  :  "  Oh  !  so  you  are  come  from  Newman  :  e  cost, 
cost  ideato"  (I  could  not  make  out  his  meaning)  "we  will 
talk  about  it  this  evening."     ''  Shall  we  come  this  morning  ?  " 
"  No  !  "     (The  Cardinal  was  going  to  cojigresso.)     "  Come  to- 
night  at   the    Ave    Maria."     He    seemed    in    good    temper 
and  laughed,  and  intended   evidently  to    be  very  courteous. 
Ambrose    then    found    Monsignor    Capalti,    introduced    the 
subject  of  his  journey  to  Rome  by  saying  that  he  had  come 
to  explain  Father  Newman's  real  sentiments  in  regard  to  the 
Oxford  question,  and  also  to  answer  any  questions  that  might 
be  put  to  him  concerning  his  obedience  to  the  Holy  See,  &c., 
all  of  which  he  understood  had  been  called  in  question, --that 
he  had  come  for  no  favour,  but  simply  to  explain.     "  Well," 
he  said,  talking  very  fast  the  whole  time  and  wishing  to  throw 
the  onus  of  the  whole  matter  on  somebody  else's  shoulders, 
"  have  you  seen  the  Cardinal  ?  "     "  No  !  I  am  to  see  him  to- 
night, but  I  thought  it  would  be  well  to  see  you,  Monsignor, 
and    to   explain    matters    to   you."     "  Well    then,"    he   said, 
civilly  enough,    but    thinking    me    a    great    bore,    "  Father 
Newman  has  not  been  attacked  at  all  in  his  own  person  {iiella 
sua  propria  persona)','  and  this  he  repeated  several  times,  for 
he  was  very  well  up  with  the  line  of  argument,  and  he  knew 
the  whole  state  of  things  although  he  pretended  it  was  not 
his  business.     "  No,"    he    said,    "  it    is  only  for  the  sake  of 
Catholic  parents.     The  Holy  See  has  had  but  one  idea  {tmica 
idea)  throughout,  to  discourage  parents   from  sending  their 
sons  to  Oxford — this  it  will  never  depart  from.      It  wishes  for 
a  better  Mission  at  Oxford  for  the  sake  of  the  Catholics  there, 
but  it  does  not  wish  to  have  Father  Newman  residincf  there  : 
for  this  would  be  to  give  too  much  importance  to   Oxford. 
Let  them  have  there  a  good  priest  to  make  their  confessions 
to,  but  not  a  man  like  Newman — that  would  be  to  encourage 
them."     Again  and  again  he  repeated  this.     He  said  :  "  the 
Bishop  of  Birmingham  'paver'  uovto  '  had  made  some  equivoco 
about  the  terms  of  the  concession  of  the  Oratory  foundation, 
—but  that  the  Holy  See  had  one  view,  and  he  hoped  Father 
Newman  would  fall  in  with  it,  and  act  in  the  spirit  of  it,  viz. 
not    to    allow   himself  to    be    persuaded    to   go    and   fix   his 
residence  there, — that  would   be  giving   so  decided   an   en- 
couragement that  it  could  not  be  done."     Then  I  tried  to  get 
in  a  word.     "  Father  Newman,  I  can  assure  you,  has  alwa}s 
acted  in  the  spirit  of  obedience  to  the  Holy  See  in  this  matter. 
He  himself  does  not,  and  has  not  wished  to  go  to  Oxford. 
I  can  show  you  exactly  what  his  opinion  is  on  the  subject, 
for  he  has  written  it  down  for  me,  and  I  will  read  it  to  you  if 


i6o  LIFE   OF   CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

you  like."  "  Well,  thank  you,  no — thank  you-  -shall  I  keep 
it?"  "No,"  I  said,  "I  would  prefer  letting  the  Cardinal 
Prefect  to-night  know  Father  Newman's  real  sentiments,  but 
I  can  assure  you  he  has  not  himself  wished  to  go  to  Oxford, 
nor  does  he  now  wish  it."  "  Then  we  are  all  agreed,"  said  he, 
"  and  the  whole  thing  can  be  settled  in  two  words — good-bye 
— there  is  a  Patriarch  waiting  for  me — basta — you  will  see 
the  Cardinal  to-night." 

'  So  far  the  journal.  Ambrose  said  he  tried,  after  saying 
you  had  no  wish  to  go  to  Oxford,  to  put  in  a  word  for  the 
other  view,  and  what  your  friends  wished,  and  the  great  work 
for  Protestants,  &c.,  and  the  scandal  of  stopping  it,  &c.,  &c., 
but  he  would  not  hear  a  word  of  it.  .  .  . 

'  Ever  yours  affectionately  in  St.  Philip, 

Henry  Bittleston.' 

Further  particulars  of  the  conversation  are  given  in  a  letter 
written  on  the  following  day  by  Ambrose  St.  John  himself: 

'  One  very  good  thing  is  that  Cardinal  Barnabo  has  made 
a  clean  breast  of  all  that  can  really  be  said  here  against  you. 
He  was  very  patient,  spoke  at  great  length,  and  gave  me 
time  to  say  all  I  could  think  of  I  suppose  I  was  an  hour 
and  a  half  with  him.  As  soon  as  he  read  your  letter  he 
said:  "Ah!  'vanissimae  calumniae,'  just  so";  I  said  I  was 
ready  to  explain,  on  your  part,  anything  he  had  to  say. 
Then  he  began  :  "  Father  Newman  has  good  reason  to  com- 
plain of  the  treatment,  but  it  is  not  my  doing.  He  ought  to 
have  been  told  at  once  that  the  Sacred  Congregation  did  not 
wish  him  to  go  himself  to  Oxford.  The  Bishop  has  made  a 
great  mistake  ;  he  ought  to  have  told  him  our  instructions 
and  not  have  allowed  him  to  compromise  himself  with  the 
laity  by  collecting  subscriptions  when  he  was  left  in  the  dark 
as  to  conditions.  The  Holy  See  has  had  but  one  view  all 
along.  Since  the  question  of  the  mixed  colleges  was  raised 
in  Ireland,  the  Holy  See  would  never  sanction  mixed  educa- 
tion ;  nor  can  it  do  so  now  indirectly  by  permitting  so  im- 
portant a  man  as  Newman  to  go  to  Oxford."  He  did  not 
use  the  word  "  residence  "  throughout.  .  .  .  Father  Newman 
had  very  properly  suppressed  his  circular  and  sold  his 
ground,  and  there  the  matter  ought  to  have  ended  ;  but  then 
he  bought  other  ground  and  the  Bishop  gave  him  the  Mission 
and  this  brought  up  the  matter  again  ;  then  the  Holy  See 
though  maintaining  always  its  one  view  had  granted  a  con- 
ditional leave  for  the  Oratory  just  that  the  way  might  be 
tried  whether  it  was  possible  to  do  some  good  to  Oxford 


THE   APPEAL  TO   ROME  (1867)  161 

without  undoing  all  that  had  been  consistently  done  against 
mixed  education.  So,  though  he  was  against  it,  a  majority- 
carried  the  vote  for  leave  on  condition  that  Father  Newman 
did  not  go  to  live  there — (so  I  understood  him  to  say).  In 
all  this  there  had  been  nothing  against  Father  Newman.  I 
have  always  upheld  him,  he  said.  ...  It  was  the  Pope 
himself  who  had  insisted  on  the  special  condition  being 
put  in  against  Newman  going  to  live  at  Oxford,  as  his  going 
to  Oxford  would  give  too  much  weight  to  the  position  of 
Catholics  there,  and  inevitably  encourage  Catholic  students 
to  go.  This  the  Holy  Father  could  not  make  himself  a 
party  to.  In  all  this  there  was  nothing  personal  to  you. 
Then  he  went  on  confidentially  to  say  in  what  he  did  think 
you  wrong.  You  stuck  to  your  own  way.  He  gave  as  his 
authority  for  this  the  late  Cardinal,  and  he  brought  up  the 
matter  of  the  London  Oratory.  He  said  you  had  then  stood 
on  your  rights.  You  had  said  to  him  (Barnabo)  :  "  lo  sono 
Fondatore."  Here  I  interrupted,  though  he  tried  to  go  on. 
Your  Eminence  must  allow  me  to  speak.  /  was  the  speaker 
on  that  occasion,  and  I  remember  no  such  words,  certainly 
not  in  the  sense  of  implying  that  you  had  any  rights  over 
their  house  ;  you  had  come  to  Rome  solely  to  defend  your 
own  house  ;  we  were  told  what  Rome  did  for  them  would 
bind  us.  "  Ah,  well,"  he  said,  "  that  is  over  now.  Faber  is 
dead  ;  then  there  was  Manning's  being  made  Archbishop, 
that  had  hurt  you."  "  You  really  don't  know  the  Father  at 
all,"  I  said,  "if  you  think  so."  "Well,"  he  said,  "I  hear 
things  said.  At  Manning's  consecration  Father  Newman 
just  came  there,  but  he  wouldn't  come  to  the  breakfast  and 
went  away.  This  was  very  much  felt  by  all  present.  This 
was  a  want  of  conformity  to  the  Pope's  mind."  There  was 
however  one  more  important  matter  on  which  you  had 
shown  yourself  very  unyielding.  It  was  on  the  matter  of 
the  Rambler,  of  which  you  were  editor.  Some  passages  in 
it  had  displeased  the  Pope  greatly,  and  he  had  insisted  on 
their  being  explained.  He  had  written  to  Dr.  Ullathorne 
and  he  had  answered  that  he  had  called  on  you  and  found 
you  ill  in  bed  ;  that  he  could  not  get  more  out  of  you  than 
that  you  would  give  up  the  Ranibler,  which  you  had  imme- 
diately done,  giving  it  into  the  hands  of  "  that  Birbonaccio 
Acton,  who,  by  the  bye,  is  here  !  "  but  though  }'ou  were  told 
to  write  an  explanation  you  had  not  done  so.  Then  I  said  : 
This  I  was  sure  was  untrue,  whoever  said  it.  You  had  to 
my  certain  knowledge,  for  I  had  been  always  at  your  side, 
never    been    asked    authoritatively    to    explain    any    special 

VOL.  II.  M 


i62  LIFE   OF  CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

passage,  that  you  had  expressed  your  readiness  if  required  to 
withdraw  or  explain  anything   that  might  be  objected  to  ; 
but  I  was  sure  you  could  give  his  Eminence  proofs  of  what 
you  had  done  if  you  were  asked  ;  and  that  I  would  write  to 
you   about  it.     I   said   I   was  sure  on    my  conscience  these 
things  would  never  be  said  of  you  by  anyone  who  knew  you. 
Then  he  spoke   again    very  angrily  of  the    Bishop,  saying 
that   this  was  another  instance  of  his  misinstructing  them  ; 
and  that  we  would  see  him  in  Rome  in  June  and  talk   to 
him  on  the  subject.     He  seemed  pleased  by  what  I  said  on 
the  subject.     I   spoke   warmly,  and  said  it  was  a  pity  the 
Bishop  had  been  afraid  to  speak  out  to  you,  that  you  were 
not  to    be  feared    in    such    a    matter,    &c.     He   then    said  : 
"  Now,  pray    tell    Father    Newman   that    in    all  this  matter 
about  Oxford  he  has  not  lost  the  smallest  fraction  of  the 
estimation  in  which  he  is  held  in  Rome."     I  thanked  him 
warmly  for    this,   for  he    spoke  with    much   feeling.     Then 
I   said  :  "  Your  Eminence's  frankness  and  kindness  in  what 
you  have  just  said,  makes  me  desire  that  you  should  know 
his    real  sentiments    on  the  Oxford  matter.     He  has  never 
been  urgent  for  it,  but  has  always  pointed  out  the  difficulties 
to  parents.     It  is  true  he  thinks,  and  others  think  more  than 
himself,  that  Oxford  would  be  a  very  great  field  for  meeting 
the  great  difficulties  of  the  day  ;  you  cannot  imagine,  I  said, 
how  much  his  opinion  is  valued  in  England      In  Oxford  all 
could  come  to  hear  him.     It  presents  such  a  field."     Then   I 
told  him  the  state  of  parties  in  Oxford  ;  how  much  you  were 
valued  and  the  conversions  that  might  be  expected.     "  Ah," 
he  said,  "  Father  Newman  must  write  and  work  in  Birming- 
ham.    If  he  cannot  gain  a  hundredfold,  he  must  be  content 
to   gain   thirty  fold,— he  may  do  a  great  deal  yet,"     Then 
I  spoke  of  our  school,  said  it  had  been  founded  expressly  to 
feed  the  Catholic  University  in  Ireland.     "  Ah,"  he  said,  "we 
ought  to  have  a  Catholic  University  in  England."     Upon  this 
I  read  in  Italian  the  passage  you  sent  me  from  your  letter 
of  your   opinions    concerning   Oxford    Education.     That    a 
Catholic  University  was    the   true   education,  but  necessity 
had  no  laws.     He  said  he  quite  agreed  with  that.     I  asked 
"  should   I   read  him  your  whole   sentiments."     "  Not  now," 
he  said,  "  but  if  you  wish  prepare  a  memorial  and  it  shall  be 
considered  when  we  meet  to  speak  together  on  the  Bishops' 
memorial."     Then  he  spoke  of  scandal  given  by  Catholics  at 
Oxford.     Talbot  had  told  him.     Why  didn't  I  go  to  Talbot  ? 
Didn't  I  know  him  ?     Then  I  flared  up  :  "  How  can  I  go  to 
him  ;    he   has    said    most    monstrous    things    about    Father 


THE  APPEAL  TO   ROME   (1867)  163 

Newman.  He  said  he  subscribed  to  Garibaldi."  "  Oh  !  come, 
not  that,"  he  said,  "  you  had  better  go  and  see  him  and  talk 
with  him.  Well,  you  must  see  the  Pope.  Come  to-morrow 
and  I  will  give  you  a  letter  to  Pacca  for  an  audience."  So  for 
that  we  wait,  and  I  do  not  know  what  more  we  have  to  do. 
I  have  told  Palmer  and  Neve,  and  they  both  think  good  has 
been  done.  I  wonder  whether  you  will  think  so.  I  have 
done  my  best,  dear  Father.  I  wish  it  was  in  better  hands. 
Good-bye.     All  well,  I  will  write  again  soon. 

'  Yours  affectionately, 

A.  St.  John.' 

Father  Ambrose  St.  John  to  Dr.  Newman. 

'Rome,  Albergo  della  Minerva:  May  2nd,  1867. 

'  Dearest  Father, — Buona  Festa  on  this  your  day  to  you. 
I  said  Mass  for  you  in  St.  Philip's  room  at  St.  Girolamo  this 
morning.  .  .  . 

*  I  have  been  with  Palmer  all  the  morning,  who,  good 
fellow,  has  been  employed  on  the  Bishop's  notes  which  I 
borrowed  from  Neve,  making  out  a  paper  which  I  am  to 
send  you  and  which  he  strongly  advises  me  to  leave  with 
Barnabo  and  bring  home  with  me  to  show  the  Bishop.  He 
says  it  will  never  do  in  after  times  to  let  the  Cardinal  white- 
wash you  at  the  expense  of  the  Bishop.  Whatever  faults  the 
Bishop  may  have  committed,  he  has  been  your  friend,  and  it 
won't  do  to  leave  him  in  the  lurch.  .  .  .  We  have  not  yet 
received  our  time  for  an  audience  with  the  Pope,  but  I 
expect  the  audience  this  week.  Talbot  is  entirely  (so  Neve 
says)  Manning's  tool,  and  hears  from  him  three  times  a  week 
everything  great  and  small.  He  is  not  all  powerful  with  the 
Pope,  and  the  Pope  snubs  him.  The  Pope  declares  he  won't 
have  you  dealt  with,  with  anything  but  the  greatest  caritc), 
and  I  believe  really  the  Italian  Prelates  in  authority,  as 
Cardinal  Barnabo,  Cardinal  de  Luca,  and  others,  arc  not  at 
all  to  be  counted  with  the  English  Manning  faction.  Dr. 
Reisach  also  is  said  to  be  moved  towards  you.  Nardi  is 
a  humbug, — praises  you  and  blames  you  according  to  his 
company.  Father  Smith  is  your  most  powerful  enemy, — 
says  everything  you  write  is  satirical,  &c.  He  or  Talbot 
sent  your  Sermon  '  to  the  Index.  The  English  "  readers,"  as 
they  are  called,  examined  it,  and  Father  Modena,  the  chief, 
declared  there  was  nothing  whatever  in  it  that  could  be 
objected  to,  upon  which  Talbot  said  :  "  I   told  you  so,"  and 

'   The  Sermon  on  the   '  Tope  and  the  Revohition,'  preached  in  response  to  a 
Pastoral  by  Bishop  Ullathornc  on  the  trials  nf  I'ius  I.\. 

M  2 


i64  LIFE   OF   CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

Smith  cried  out  :  "  Well,  but  it  is  a  satire  on  his  own  Bishop 
from  beginning  to  end,"  on  which  Palmer  told  the  said 
Smith  :  "  Either  Dr.  Newman  then  must  be  an  ass  to  satirize 
his  Bishop  who  has  nothing  to  do  with  the  Temporal  Power, 
or  the  man  that  says  so  is  an  ass.  Now  nobody  says 
Newman  is  an  ass  ;  ergo,  he  who  says  Newman  satirizes  his 
Bishop  is  an  ass."  Smith  became  more  cautious  on  this. 
He  is  a  great  big,  mouthing,  good-natured  (so  they  say) 
Irishman  who  blusters  about,  a  popular  lecturer  in  Theology 
at  Propaganda,  and  who  sees  a  great  many  English  whom 
he  takes  to  the  Catacombs.  This  is  what  I  gather  from 
Neve  and  Palmer. 

'  Palmer  says  that  he  has  no  doubt  that,  whilst  the  Pope 
and  Barnabo  only  want  to  carry  out  their  unica  questione 
how  to  prevent  a  system  of  mixed  education  gradually 
getting  a  footing  in  England,  the  English  party,  of  which 
Ward  is  the  brains,  are  determined  to  prevent  your  going  to 
Oxford  on  Theological  grounds.  Ward  told  Palmer  himself 
that  he  should  oppose  it  with  all  his  might,  for  it  would  give 
you  influence  and  enable  you  to  propagate  your  views.  The 
two  parties  are  quite  distinct.  Neve  said  he  thought  Father 
Ryder's  pamphlet  would  be  hailed  by  Roman  Theologians, 
who  are  by  no  means  Wardites.  He  likes  the  pamphlet 
very  much.  I  told  him  to  keep  it  very  quiet.  Only  fancy, 
Talbot  came  to  him  and  said,  spluttering  out  as  he  does  : 
"  So  Neve  they  tell  me  you  are  a  Newmanite,"  upon 
which  Neve  gave  him  a  good  jobation.  ...  I  think  the 
Italians  think  us  all — Manning,  Talbot,  you.  Ward,  &c., — 
a  lot  of  queer,  quarrelsome  Inglesi,  and  just  now  the  Pope 
thinks  his  Sejanus  (this  is  Palmer's  profanity)  has  had  his 
own  way  too  much.  Well,  we  shall  see.  I  told  you 
Barnabo  said  to  me :  "I  am  sure  Newman  is  really  '  un  sant' 
uomo,' " — he  listened  with  great  interest  to  what  I  told  him  of 
your  influence  in  England.  Well,  I  shall  know  more  when  I 
have  seen  the  Pope. 

'  Ever  yours  affectionately, 

Ambrose  St.  John.' 

'  Father  Perrone  was  most  warm  to  me,'  St.  John  writes 
on  May  3.  'I  met  him  at  the  Sapienza  where  Monsignor 
Nardi  took  me.  He  said  he  had  written  to  you  and  he  told 
me  he  was  your  warm  friend.  "  So  tutto  tutto,  e  ne  parleremo." 
He  is  a  consultor  of  Propaganda  and  has  a  vote.  I  called 
on  Reisach  and  am  to  see  him  to-morrow.  I  am  now  going 
to  Talbot,  who  cut  me  this  morning  at  the  Colkgio  Inglese. 


THE   APPEAL  TO   ROME   (1867)  165 

However  I  shall  go  and  call,  for  Barnabo  told  me  to  do  so. 
The  principal  matter  now  is  the  article  in  the  Rambler 
years  ago.' 

Father  H.  Bittleston  to  Dr.  Newman. 

'  May  3rd,  1867. 

'  We  had  caught  sight  of  Talbot  at  St.  Peter's  one  day  ; 
he  was  sitting  down  talking  with  A.  B.  and  we  got  out 
of  his  way.  On  Friday  morning  we  were  just  standing 
at  Neve's  door,  on  the  point  of  going  in,  when  Talbot  came 
by.  We  bowed  and  he  bowed  and  passed  on  into  Neve's 
room  and  kept  us  waiting  no  end  of  time.  In  the  afternoon 
we  called.  He  came  up  to  us,  shook  hands  as  if  wishing  to 
be  friendly,  said  how  time  altered  people,  and  there  was  some 
little  pleasantry  about  growing  fat,  as  if  to  excuse  himself,  I 
thought,  for  not  having  taken  notice  of  Father  Ambrose  in 
the  morning  at  Neve's.  Ambrose  broke  in  by  saying  he 
came  by  desire  of  Cardinal  Barnabo,  to  give  to  Monsignor 
Talbot  any  information  he  wished  touching  Father  Newman's 
conduct  in  the  Oxford  matter,  &c.  Then  Talbot  said  he 
would  give  a  history  of  the  whole  affair — condemned  Manning, 
yet  said  there  were  some  things  against  Newman.  The  Holy 
See  was  always  against  youths  going  to  Oxford,  The  Pope 
propria  motu  wished  everything  to  be  done  to  dissuade 
parents.  About  three  years  ago,  there  were  two  youths  here 
who  wished  to  have  an  audience  of  the  Holy  Father,  which 
Talbot  procured  for  them.  The  Holy  Father  asked  them 
what  they  were  going  to  do  ;  when  they  said  they  were  going 
to  Oxford,  he  jumped  up  and  said  vehemently  :  "  I  entirely 
disapprove  of  it.  .  .  .  The  Bishops  of  England,  in  obedi- 
ence to  the  Holy  See,  admonished  the  clergy  to  dissuade 
parents,  &c., — still  P'ather  Newman  went  on  at  Edgbaston 
preparing  boys  for  Oxford — he  referred  to  Towneley  and 
another,  and  besides  he  had  seen  a  letter  to  a  lady  here  from 
one  of  the  Professors,  which  said  that  Newman  made  no 
difficulty  of  boys  going  to  Oxford  and  that  it  was  his  work 
to  prepare  for  it."  .  .  .  Ambrose  said  that  our  school  was 
commenced  to  feed  the  Catholic  University  of  Dublin— that 
there  was  no  special  preparation  for  Oxford — and  that  they 
went  from  other  schools  as  much  as  from  ours.  .  .  . 

'  He  spoke  of  the  Ra7)ibler.  The  article  "  On  consulting 
the  faithful "  had  been  delated  by  the  Bishop  of  Newport,  for 
heresy.  The  passage  he  complained  of  was  (he  was  quoting 
from  memory)  "  that  for  sixty  years,  the  Ecclesia  docefis  was  in 


i66  LIFE   OF   CARDINAL    NEWMAN 

suspension,  and  the  faith  was  \)rt9,er\edhy  cojtscnsus  fidelirivi." 
Talbot  said,  speaking  for  himself,  that  "  the  passage,  as  it 
stood,  was  no  doubt  heretical."  Still,  out  of  consideration 
for  Newman  the  Holy  See  would  not  condemn  it,  or  call  on 
him  for  an  explanation.  He  did  not  know  exactly  what  had 
been  done,  but  he  saw  a  letter  of  Father  Newman  to  the 
Bishop  of  Birmingham  in  which  he  said  that  he  hoped  at  any 
rate  they  would  not  send  for  him  to  Rome.  So  out  of  mercy 
(and  I  think  Talbot  said  he  had  him.self  pleaded  for  him)  the 
matter  was  dropped — only  Newman  knew  from  his  Bishop 
that  they  wanted  an  explanation  or  retractation  of  that 
passage.  Consequently  he  was  under  a  cloud,  and  he  felt  it 
himself;  for  for  three  years  he  had  not  opened  his  mouth  until 
he  was  called  out  by  the  "  Apologia."  Ambrose  said  warmly 
and  more  than  once,  it  was  a  very  cruel  kindness.  The 
Father  felt  keenly  any  impeachment  of  his  faith — to  touch 
him  in  that  point  was  to  touch  the  apple  of  his  eye — but  it 
would  never  hurt  him  in  the  least  if  he  was  told  plainly  if 
any  exception  was  taken  to  his  expressions  or  statements, 
and  was  always  ready  in  obedience  to  competent  authority 
to  retract  or  explain,  &c.,  &c.' 

Father  Ambrose  St.  John  to  Dr.  Newman. 

'  Rome  :  May  4th,  1867. 

'  Dearest  Father, — Well,  we  have  had  our  audience  with 
the  Pope,  and  it  has  passed  off  very  well  and  pleasantly 
indeed.  The  Holy  Father  was  not  at  all  cold  or  angry, 
quite  the  contrary'.  He  began  by  saying  with  a  very  kind 
smile  :  "  Well,  so  you  are  come  from  Father  Newman  as  my 
dear  sons.  I  do  not  in  the  least  doubt  Father  Newman's 
obedience,  but  now  in  this  matter  of  mixed  education  my 
mind  is  made  up  not  to  give  it  any  encouragement,  so  I  have 
always  said  as  to  improving  the  Mission  at  Oxford,  .  .  . 
that  I  greatly  desire,  but  I  cannot  encourage  anything 
which  would  lead  Catholics  to  go  there.  Years  ago  when 
a  certain  Signor  Corbally  (I  think)  wished  to  get  my 
approbation  for  the  Cork  Colleges,  I  refused,  and  I  have 
not  changed."  Then  I  began  :  "  Holy  Father,  no  one 
more  than  Father  Newman  has  spoken  of  the  dangers 
surrounding  a  young  man  going  to  Oxford,  and  he  has 
always  himself  been  loth  to  go  there,  as  he  knew  his 
name  would  attract  Catholic  students  there,  but  Father 
Newman  is  a  man  of  great  charity  to  whom  many  persons 
apply,  fathers  of  families  and  others,  and  he  was  greatly 
desirous  to  assist  those  poor  souls  who  might  find  themselves 


THE   APPEAL   TO   ROME   (1867)  167 

(by  their  fathers'  doing,  not  theirs)  at  Oxford,  because  cir- 
cumstances are  such  in  England  that  there  being  no  Catholic 
University  parents  are  driven  into  a  great  difficulty  for  the 
education  of  their  sons — there  are  dangers  everywhere,  and  it 
was  to  meet  those  dangers  Father  Newman  at  last  consented 
to  go  to  take  the  mission."  "  Yes,"  he  said,"  the  Bishops  are 
meeting  about  it,  and  then  we  shall  decide."  Then  or  before, 
I  forget  which,  he  spoke  of  those  who  were  not  Catholics  di 
cuore^  and  I  am  sorry  to  say  he  mentioned  Acton  {che  sta 
adesso  iti  Londra, — he  meant  Roma)  as  a  type  of  those  people. 
He  called  him  no  names  like  Barnabo,  but  he  coupled  him 
with  those  Signori  di  Torino,  who  were  bringing  in  a 
semi-Catholicism.  I  forget  what  name  he  used.  He  looked 
upon  mixed  education  as  a  part  of  that.  Then  he  turned 
the  subject,  asked  how  many  we  were.  I  answered,  nine, 
novices  included.  ..."  How  old  are  you  ?  you  are  Father 
St.  John  are  you  not  ?  I  know  you  well,  but  you  are  grown 
a  Vecchione,  lost  your  freshness,  how  old  are  you  ?  How  long  an 
Oratorian  ?  Ah  !  you  must  increase  your  numbers."  .  .  .  Then 
I  reminded  him  of  Santa  Croce  and  of  his  coming  into  our 
refectory,  &c.  He  evidently  warmed  towards  us.  Then  I 
spoke  of  Father  A.  B.  and  of  the  Government  having  given 
a  salary.  "How  much,  100/..?"  "No,  50/."  "Ah,  that  is 
half."  Then  he  made  some  joke  about  the  other  half  which 
I  did  not  catch.  Then  we  took  our  leave.  As  I  knelt  I 
said  :  "  Holy  Father,  you  must  give  your  Benediction  to 
Father  Newman."  "  Oh  yes,"  he  said,  "  I  give  it  with  all 
my  heart,  and  to  all  of  you  "...  Then  we  went. 

'  Something  else  I  brought  in.  When  I  began  to  speak 
about  your  having  been  so  pained  by  the  reports  sent  from 
Rome,  he  answered  you  were  not  to  mind,  that  it  was  enough 
for  you  to  know  that  he,  the  Pope,  knew  you  were  t7iUo 
ubbediente.  I  am  sure  he  avoided  details  purposely.  He 
never  mentioned  the  Rambler  ox  Manning,  or  anyone  except 
Acton,  and  he  evidently  to  my  mind  brought  him  in  as 
hoping  you  would  not  connect  yourself  with  him.  ... 

'  I  brought  in  here  that  we  had  a  school  founded  expressly 
to  prepare  young  men  for  the  Dublin  University,  but  English- 
men would  not  go  to  Dublin.  "Ah,"  he  said,  "there  is 
always  that  racial  antipatia,  but  we  must  think  when  the 
Bishops  have  met  what  can  be  done."  This  is  all  I  recollect 
of  the  conversation. 

'Talbot  came  up  to  us  whilst  waiting  [before  our  audience] 
with  all  appearance  of  a  great  desire  to  be  friendly.  He  said  : 
"  I  could  be  of  the  greatest  service  to  you  if  Father  Newman 


i68  TJFE   OF   CARDINAL    NEWMAN 

would  let  me.  Would  I  come  to  him  ?  or  better,  let  him 
come  to  me  and  have  some  long  talks  with  him  ?  "  I  said  I 
was  at  his  service  for  any  information  he  might  require  as 
consultor  of  Propaganda.  I  throughout  spoke  to  him  as  in 
his  official  capacity  and  I  then  in  that  capacity  told  him 
how  all  the  coldness  he  complained  of  your  showing 
authorities  at  Rome,  and  himself  in  particular,  had  arisen 
from  the  unwarrantable  things  which  had  been  said  against 
you  ;  that  people  would  not  understand  that  you  had  always 
consistently  held  that  there  was  to  be  in  diibiis  libcrtas. 
Then  he  brought  out,  (this  was  after  the  audience  when  he 
took  us  to  his  room)  the  Rambler  with  the  Article  and  read 
with  some  hesitation  some  passages.  They  seemed  to  him, 
I  think,  not  so  strong  as  he  expected.  He  has  evidently 
never  thought  of  them  himself  I  said,  Father  Newman  was 
writing  history  and  showing,  however  strong  the  historical 
difficulties  were,  the  Faith  was  always  in  the  Church.  "  I  am 
not  however  here,"  I  said,  "  to  defend  Father  Newman's 
faith,  that  he  must  do  himself;  but  I  know  he  thought  he 
was  only  saying  what  Baronius  had  said."  I  said,  "  I  am 
confident  Baronius  has  said  as  much."  "  Well,  Baronius,"  he 
admitted,  (knowing  nothing  about  it  evidently)  "  has  said  some 
very  strong  things  doubtless."  Altogether  he  looked  puzzled, 
and  repeated  his  wish  for  a  long  talk.  Then  I  said,  rising  to  go  : 
"  Monsignor,  as  long  as  you  say  Father  Newman  is  a  heretic, 
there  must  be  a  line  between  us."  Then  he  answered  in  a 
deprecatory  manner :  "  Oh,  no,  I  never  said  that  ;  there  is  a 
great  difference  between  stating  an  heretical  proposition  and 
being  a  heretic."  "  Well,  but  you  said  he  was  called  upon  to 
retract  and  would  not."  "  No,  not  that,  I  only  •  heard  the 
other  day  what  I  said  yesterday,  that  Father  Newman  had 
been  written  to."  Here  I  ought  to  have  come  down  upon 
and  clenched  him  with :  "  Why  did  you  say  it  then  ? 
Charity  thinketh  no  evil,"  but  I  was  softened  by  his  manner 
and  let  him  make  an  engagement  to  come  to  my  room. 
When  he  comes  I  won't  let  him  off,  you  may  trust  me,  but 
I  am  such  a  bad  hand  at  clenching  anything.  I  gain  my 
point  and  don't  know  how  to  use  it.  I  hope  you  will  not 
think  me  unduly  courteous.  I  have  said  stronger  things  to 
him  than  I  ever  said  to  anyone,  and  he  bears  it  all,  quite 
amicably.  He  said  :  "  I  am  sure  a  great  deal  of  good  will 
come  out  of  this.  I  wish  to  be  a  good  friend  ;  no  one  was  more 
so  when  we  were  at  Rome  together,  but  Father  Newman  has 
seemed  of  late  to  speak  as  if  one  religion  was  for  the 
English  and  another  for  Catholics  on  the  Continent."    "  How 


THE   APPEAL   TO   ROME   (1867)  169 

can  you  say  so  ?  "  said  Henry  ;  "  the  Father  says  he  accepts 
everything  in  the  Raccolta."  Then  I  said  :  "  Were  you, 
Monsignor,  when  you  became  a  CathoHc,  ready  to  say  all 
that  is  said  in  Grignon  de  Montfort's  book  ?  And  for  Popery 
proper,  who  has  spread  it  as  much  as  I  have  with  the 
Raccolta}  They  are  reprinting  the  5th  thousand  and  as 
many  have  been  sold  in  America.'  He  seemed  in  all  this 
like  a  man  whose  eyes  were  beginning  to  open.  Mind  I  am 
not  trusting  him.  I  know  he  is  under  Manning's  thumb.  But, 
if  appearances  go  for  anything,  he  is  clumsily  repenting. 
Henry  is  sanguine  we  have  done  a  great  deal,  not  speaking 
of  Talbot  but  generally,  with  the  Pope  and  Barnabo.  I 
don't  know  what  I  think.  Everybody  I  have  seen  speaks  of 
you  most  kindly. 

'  Nine  o'clock. 

*  Your  letter  just  come.  Well,  I  suppose  you  will,  with 
your  monkey  up,  be  angry  with  us  for  talking  to  Talbot  at 
all.  But  what  can  we  do  ?  We  must  go  on  when  we  are  in 
a  groove.  It  has  all  followed  inevitably  from  going  to 
Barnabo.     Pray  for  us  hard  that  we  may  make  no  mistakes. 

'  Ever  yours  affectionately, 

A.  St.  John.' 

Newman,  immediately  on  receipt  of  Ambrose  St.  John's 
information  that  the  Rambler  article  had  been  the  main  cause 
of  suspicion  in  Rome,  forwarded  to  him  the  text  of  his  letter 
to  Cardinal  Wiseman  written  in  i860,  in  which  he  had  offered 
to  make  all  necessary  explanations.  He  forwarded  at  the 
same  time  the  documents  relating  to  the  separation  between 
the  two  Oratories. 

He  was  not  dissatisfied  with  the  course  of  events  as 
described  by  his  friends,  but  remained,  however,  far  from 
sharing  Father  St.  John's  benevolent  impressions  as  to 
Cardinal  Barnabo's  supposed  amiable  dispositions  in  regard 
to  himself. 

He  wrote  as  follows  to  Father  Ambrose  : 

'  May  7th,   1S67. 

'  I  think  you  have  managed  very  well.  I  am  quite  pre- 
pared for  the  Roman  people  thinking  my  going  to  Oxford 
will  encourage  mixed  education,  and  the  Manning-Ward 
party  thinking  it  will  give  rne  an  open  door  for  my  theology. 

'  It  seems  to  me  that  our  going  to  Oxford  is  quite  at  an 
end. 


I70  LIFE  OF    CARDINAL    NEWMAN 

'  I  send  a  copy  of  the  letter  which  I  sent  to  Cardinal 
Wiseman,  (at  the  Bishop's  suggestion,)  about  the  Rambler — 
and  which  the  Cardmal  never  afisivered.  At  the  end  of  six 
months  Manning  said  to  me  in  conversation  :  "  By  the  bye, 
that  matter  of  the  Rambler  is  settled  " — or  he  wrote  me  a 
line  to  that  effect.     I  have  nothing  more  to  say  about  it. 

'  As  to  Father  Faber,  I  cautiously  abstained  from 
claiming  any  power  over  the  London  House  when  I  went 
to  Rome  with  you.  Barnabo  introduced  the  subject  of  the 
"Deputato"  and  puzzled  us.  If  I  find  any  notes  of  the 
subject  I  will  send  them.' 

'  Wednesday  night,  May  8th,  1867. 

'  I  am  not  a  bit  softened  about  Barnabo.  He  has  not 
at  all  explained  the  "  blanda  et  suavis  revocatio  "  which  was 
to  be  concealed  from  me  till  I  attempted  to  go  to  Oxford — 
not  at  all.  And  to  plead  the  Bishop's  cause  before  him  is  an 
indignity  both  in  you  and  to  the  Bishop.  But  I  don't  see 
how  it  can  be  helped, — I  have  allowed  your  defence  of  the 
Bishop  and  do  allow  it.  There  is  nothing  else  that  can  be 
done.  Neve  and  Palmer  wishing  it,  but  the  judge  is  the 
culprit. 

'  I  doubt  not  Barnabo  and  Capalti  call  you  and  me 
"  pover'  uomo "  behind  our  backs,  as  they  do  the  Bishop. 
The  idea  of  a  Diocesan  Bishop  having  toiled  ...  as  he 
has,  to  be  so  treated  !  As  for  me,  I  am  not  a  Bishop,  and 
I  have  not  aimed  at  pleasing  them  except  as  a  duty  to  God, 
— at  least  for  many  years. 

'  As  I  am  writing  I  recapitulate  the  Rambler  affair. 
I  won't  write  a  defence  of  the  passage  in  the  Rambler  till 
I  know  more  clearly  what  I  am  accused  of,  either  in  Catholic 
doctrine  injured,  or  sentences  and  phrases  used  by  me.  But 
you  can  write  to  Barnabo  '^^  facts — viz.  that  the  Bishop  told 
me  that  Barnabo  was  hurt  at  the  passage,  and  (I  suppose 
getting  it  translated  !)  showed  it  the  Pope  and  said  to  the 
Bishop  that  the  Pope  too  was  hurt,  but  that  neither  you  nor  I 
at  the  tifne  could  make  out  with  what.  That  at  the  Bishop's 
wish  I  wrote  to  Cardinal  Wiseman,  the^i  in  Rome,  the  letter  I 
sent  you  yesterday,  to  say  that  I  would  make  any  statement 
they  wished  and  explain  my  passage  according  to  it,  if  they 
would  but  tell  me  what  they  wanted — that  both  the  Bishop 
and  I  expected  an  answer  to  that  letter,  that  no  answer  ever 
came  ;  that,  at  the  end  of  six  months  or  so.  Manning  said  or 
wrote  to  me  to  say  :  "  By  the  bye  that  matter  of  the  Rambler 
is  all  at  an  end," — which  I  thought,  and  think  now,  came 
from  Cardinal  Wiseman  and  was  meant  to  convey  to  me  that 


THE   APPEAL  TO    ROME    (1867)  17 t 

I  need  do  no  more  in  the  matter.  I  think  I  have  said  all 
this  yesterday,  but  as  I  wrote  quickly  to  save  the  post,  lest  I 
should  have  omitted  anything,  I  repeat  it  here.  Don't  offer 
for  me  that  I  now  will  make  explanations,  unless  they  wish 
to  revive  an  old  matter.' ' 

Dr.  Ullathorne  at  Newman's  request  wrote  an  account  of 
the  interview  with  Cardinal  Barnabo  at  which  the  Cardinal 
had  communicated  to  him  the  original  charges  against  the 
article  by  Bishop  Brown,  and  of  the  events  which  followed. 
This  document,  which  was  also  sent  to  St.  John,  ran  as  follows  : 

'  Birmingham  :  May  9,  1867. 

'  Cardinal  Barnabo  asked  me  if  I  would  do  nothing  to  help 
them  through  their  difficulty.  I  asked  what  he  wished  me  to 
do  ?  He  said,  that  he  wished  me  to  bring  the  matter  home 
to  you.  He  produced  the  Bishop's  [Dr.  Brown's]  letters, 
addressed  in  English  to  the  Secretary,  Monsignor  Badini. 
I  asked  for  the  passages.  He  exhibited  them  marked  in 
pencil  ;  and  pointing  to  them  with  his  pen  he  said  "  Ce 
n'est  pas  Sanscrit,"  whereby  I  understood  him  to  mean  that 

'  The  letter  to  Cardinal  Wiseman  which  Newman  enclosed  ran  as  follows  : 

'  The  Oiatorj',  Birmingham  :  January  19th,  i860. 

'  My  dear  Lord  Cardinal,— Our  Bishop  tells  me  that  my  name  has  been  men- 
tioned at  Rome  in  connection  with  an  article  in  the  Rambler,  which  has  by  an 
English  Bishop  been  formally  brought  before  Propaganda  as  containing  unsound 
doctrine.  And  our  Bishop  says  that  your  Eminence  has  spoken  so  kindly  about 
me  as  to  encourage  me  to  write  to  you  on  the  subject. 

'  I  have  not  yet  been  asked  from  Propaganda  whether  I  am  the  author  of 
the  article,  or  otherwise  responsible  for  it ;  and,  though  I  am  ready  to  answer 
the  question  when  it  is  put  to  me  I  do  not  consider  it  a  duty  to  volunteer  the 
information  till  your  Eminence  advises  it. 

'  However,  I  am  ready,  with  the  question  being  asked  of  me,  to  explain  the 
article  as  if  it  were  mine. 

'  I  will  request  then  of  your  Eminence's  kindness  three  things  : — 

'  I.  The  passages  of  the  article  on  which  the  Cardinal  Prefect  of  Propaganda 
desires  an  explanation. 

'  2.   A  copy  of  the  translations  in  which  his  Eminence  has  rtad  them. 

•  3.  The  dogmatic  propositions  which  they  have  been  represented  as  infringing 
or  otherwise  impairing. 

'  If  your  Eminence  does  this  for  me,  I  will  engage,  with  the  blessing  of  God, 
in  the  course  of  a  month  from  the  receipt  of  the  information  : 

'  I.  To  accept  and  profess  ex  animo  in  their  fulness  and  integrity  the  dogmatic 
propositions  implicated. 

'  2.  To  explain  the  animus  and  argument  of  the  writer  of  the  article  in  strict 
accordance  with  those  propositions. 

'  3.  To  show  that  the  English  text  and  context  of  the  article  itself  are 
absolutely  consistent  with  them.  .   .   . 

'  Kissing  your  sacred  purple,  I  am,  my  dear  Lord  Cardinal, 
'  Your  faithful  &  affectionate  servant  in  Christ, 

'John  H.  Newman 

of  the  Oratory.' 


172  LIFE    OF   CARDINAL    NEWMAN 

he  perfectly  understood  the  passages  he  was  talking  about ; 
he  added—"  Le  Pape  est  beaucoup  pcin^."  I  then  at  his 
earnest  request  undertook  to  bring  the  matter  before  your 
attention. 

'  Cardinal  Wiseman  was  then  at  the  English  College  at 
Rome.  I  told  him  all  that  had  passed,  and  spoke  to  him 
gravely  about  the  annoyances  to  which  from  time  to  time 
you  had  been  subjected.  .  .  .  Also  [I  went]  into  the  question 
about  your  treatment  in  the  question  of  the  Bible  translation, 
&c.  At  last  the  Cardinal  burst  into  tears,  and  said  "  Tell 
Newman  I  will  do  anything  I  can  for  him." 

'  So  soon  as  I  returned  to  Birmingham  I  wrote  to  you 
and  asked  you  if  you  could  call  on  me,  as  I  had  a  communi- 
cation for  you  from  Propaganda  of  some  gravity.  Father 
St.  John  came  in  your  stead,  and  told  me  you  were  ill  in  bed. 
I  communicated  the  case  to  him,  and  no  sooner  had  you 
heard  it  than  you  got  out  of  bed  and  came  up  to  me  in 
a  cab.  You  proposed,  as  I  had  repeated  to  Father  St.  John 
what  Cardinal  Wiseman  had  said  of  his  readiness  to  serve 
you,  that  you  would  write  to  him,  and  put  your  readiness  to 
comply  with  the  requirements  of  Propaganda  into  his  hands. 
You  asked  if  this  course  would  satisfy  me.  I  said,  perfectly. 
I  then  wrote  to  Cardinal  Barnabo,  and  mentioned  all  that 
had  passed,  describing  how  you  had  got  out  of  your  sick 
bed  and  come  up  to  me  as  soon  as  you  heard  the  case  and 
commission  with  which  I  was  charged. 

'  It  is  not  correct  that  Cardinal  Barnabo  wrote  to  me. 
But  it  is  correct  that  I  wrote  to  him  and  mentioned  every 
detail  of  your  conduct  above  stated.  And  I  concluded  with 
the  statement  that  the  case  had  now  passed  into  the  hands 
of  Cardinal  Wiseman,  who  would  represent  you,  I  presumed, 
with  Propaganda  after  he  had  received  your  letter.' 

That  the  Wiseman  and  Ullathorne  letters  and  the 
documents  relating  to  the  process  concerning  Father  I'aber 
and  the  London  Oratory  at  once  produced  the  best  effect, 
both  in  reassuring  Newman's  friends  as  to  the  strength  of  his 
position  and  in  propitiating  the  Roman  authorities  themselves, 
is  clear  from  the  following  letters  : 

Father  Henry  Bittleston  to  Dr.  Newman. 

'Rome  :  May  nth,  1867. 

'  My  dear  Father, — Your  telegram  came  last  night  at 
bed  time.  This  morning  your  letter  enclosing  important 
documents. 


THE   APPEAL  TO   ROME   (1867)  173 

*  How  very  strange  that  neither  Ambrose  nor  I  should 
have  remembered  your  letter  to  the  late  Cardinal  (Wiseman). 
Palmer's  document,  for  which  Ambrose  asked  in  the  tele- 
gram, he  has  ready  in  Italian,  and  he  is  now  putting  your  letter 
to  Cardinal  Wiseman,  and  also  the  "supplica"  into  Italian, 
and  intends  taking  them  to  Cardinal  Barnabo  this  evening 
at  the  Ave,  the  best  time  to  see  him.  We  must  finish  all  our 
business,  and  all  our  sight  seeing  very  soon  if  we  are  to  be 
home  for  St.  Philip's  Day.  ...  On  the  other  hand  Neve 
(and  I  think  Sir  John  Acton)  have  said  that  we  ought  not  to 
go  without  getting  a  decision — and  Palmer  thinks  certainly  it 
would  be  much  better  not  to  go  without  entirely  disabusing 
the  mind  (or  minds)  of  Propaganda,  as  to  your  orthodoxy, 
and  obtaining  a  statejnent  of  authority,  to  be  published,  clear- 
ing you  after  they  have  passed  the  Essay  assailed,  either  with 
or  without  an  explanation  from  you. 

'  Father  Ambrose  is  also  preparing  a  "  supplica  "  embody- 
ing your  proposition  about  the  school.  .  .  . 

'  Ambrose  says  there  is  only  just  time  to  catch  the  post. 

'  Henry  Bittleston. 

'  P.S. — We  both  think  your  letter  to  the  Cardinal  (Wise- 
man) a  complete  success — in  fact,  a  stunner.' 

The  Same  to  Dr.  Newman. 

'Rome  :  May  I2th,   1867. 

'  Last  night  [Ambrose]  took  the  three  documents  to 
Cardinal  Barnabo,  who  v/as  very  kind  and  friendly.  x'\mbrose 
is  beginning  to  be  almost  won  by  him.  He  knows  that 
he  has  treated  you  badly  in  some  things,  but  he  thinks 
he  has  been  abused  and  that  he  is  white  in  comparison  of 
some  who  oueht  to  know  better.  Your  letter  to  the  late 
Cardinal  Wiseman  quite  thunderstruck  him.  "  Why,"  he  said, 
"  Cardinal  Wiseman  was  in  Propaganda,  and  we  never  heard 
of  this."  He  said  it  quite  cleared  you  (morally,  I  suppose), 
but  for  Cardinal  Wiseman  he  seemed  not  to  know  what  to 
say  ;  all  he  could  say  was  :  "  Well,  he  is  dead  now,  -requics- 
cat  in  pace!'  He  said  xAmbrose  must  take  it  to  the  Pope. 
He  must  go  and  show  it  to  Monsignor  Talbot  and  get 
another  audience.  He  seemed  equally  flabbergasted  by 
your  statement  on  the  Faber  matter,  and  his  having  called 
you  "  Dcputato  Apostolico,"  &c.,  but  Ambrose  must  give  you 
a  more  full  account  of  the  interview.  Ambrose  left  with  his 
Eminence  the  three  papers  (Palmer's  statement,  your  letter  to 
Cardinal  Wiseman,  the  document  with  the  three  propositions 


174  LIFE    OF   CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

about  our  school).  This  morning  he  went  to  Cardinal 
de  Luca,  from  whom  I  think  he  got  nothing  new, — and  to 
Monsignor  Talbot  who  confessed  to  having  seen  the  letter  to 
the  late  Cardinal  Wiseman,  and  who  was  against  taking  it 
to  the  Pope.  Of  course,  he  said,  he  would  show  it  to  His 
Holiness  if  he  wished,  but  he  would  not  advise  it.  He  said 
that  the  Pope  had  forgotten  all  about  it.  This  must  do  till 
to-morrow.  Ambrose  is  gone  to  dine  with  Monsignor  Nardi, 
a  bore  which  he  could  not  escape.' 

It  transpired,  however,  soon  afterwards  that  the  accusa- 
tions against  the  Rajubler  article  had  been  put  in  definite 
theological  form  by  no  less  eminent  a  person  than  Franzelin, 
the  great  Jesuit  theologian,  afterwards  a  Cardinal,  in  a  lecture 
at  the  Roman  College.  Father  Bittleston  urged  the  im- 
portance of  a  reply. 

'  It  seems  to  us,'  he  wrote,  'that  the  only  thing  to  do  and 
that  very  important,  is  for  you  to  be  preparing  an  explanation 
of  those  passages  in  the  Rambler  article,  and  I  think  it  might 
be  very  useful  to  give  an  historical  account  of  your  connection 
with  the  Rambler.  We  both  think  that  our  coming  here 
has  been  of  the  greatest  use  in  bringing  out  this  rankling 
sore.  I  don't  think  you  would  have  any  difficulty  in 
explaining  quite  satisfactorily,  and  we  really  think  there  is 
no  unwillingness  on  the  part  of  authorities  to  be  satisfied. 
Perhaps  we  can  hear  what  Father  Perrone  thinks.' 

Perrone,  whom  Father  Ambrose  consulted,  held  that 
Newman  should  take  occasion,  in  writing  of  something  else, 
to  explain  fully  the  passages  to  which  exception  had  been 
taken.  He  added  that  he  was  prepared  to  say  to  objectors 
that  he  guaranteed  the  soundness  of  Newman's  doctrine  on 
the  matter  in  question.  Newman  adopted  his  suggestion, 
and  answered  Franzelin's  points  one  by  one  in  his  next 
edition  of  the  '  Arians.' 

Father  Cardclla,  so  Father  St.  John  now  discovered,  had 
already  replied  to  Franzelin,  and  strongly  upheld  the  ortho- 
doxy of  the  incriminated  passages.  Father  Perrone  spoke  of 
them  with  more  reserve,  as  admitting  a  true  sense  and  a  false. 
There  was  every  disposition  to  be  satisfied  with  any  explana- 
tion which  Newman  might  give,  and  in  fact  no  more  was 
heard  of  the  matter,  so  far  as  I  can  learn,  after  this  year. 


THE  APPEAL  TO   ROME   (1867)  175 

Cardinal  de  Luca  was  especially  warm  in  his  language 
concerning  Newman.  He  urged  that  on  the  Oxford  question 
Newman  must  come  to  an  understanding  with  Manning, 
as  the  Holy  See  could  not  oppose  the  Archbishop  and  the 
English  episcopate.  And  now  Monsignor  Talbot  came 
forward  and  expressed  an  earnest  wish  to  resume  friendly 
relations  with  Newman. 

Father  St.  John  to  Dr.  Newman. 

'  Albergo  della  Minerva,  Rome  :  May  i6th,  1867. 

' .  .  .  Here  is  a  turn  up.  At  half  past  seven  o'clock  last  night 
down  comes  Monsignor  Talbot.  He  seemed  very  nervous. 
Asked  for  a  private  interview, — would  not  have  anybody  with 
me.  He  was  hard  upon  two  hours  in  my  room,  it  is  im- 
possible to  remember  all  that  passed.  But  the  upshot  was 
he  was  excessively  sorry  for  the  estrangement,— he  desired 
your  friendship  very  much, — could  be  of  the  greatest  service 
to  you  in  letting  you  know  how  things  were  felt  at  Rome. 
He  had  shown  his  friendship  in  the  Achilli  matter.  He  had 
kept  the  witnesses  at  his  own  expense,  got  the  Pope  to  do 
things  he  had  never  done  before,  &c.  He  had  had  nothing 
to'  do  with  the  Faber  row.  Nor  with  the  Cardinal's  treatment 
of  you  in  the  first  Oxford  circular  matter,  nor  with  Dr. 
Brown's  accusation  of  your  doctrine  in  the  first  instance. 
"  What  had  he  done  ?  "  When  he  found  you  were  under 
a  cloud  he  had  come  out  of  his  way  to  find  you — he  had 
asked  you  to  come  and  preach  in  the  best  intentions.  You 
had  written  the  coldest  letter  in  reply.  Could  nothing  be 
done  to  set  matters  right,  &c.  "Monsignor,"  I  said,  "you 
have  been  frank  with  me,  and  I  will  be  frank  with  you.  You 
said  he  had  preached  a  sermon  in  favour  of  Garibaldi  ;  nay, 
had  even  subscribed  to  Garibaldi  (this  last  he  emphatically 
denied),  and  there  were  various  other  hostile  sayings  of  yours 
reported  in  England.  Father  Newman  thought  that  it  was 
taking  a  liberty  with  him  to  say  :  '  Come  and  whitewash  your- 
self by  preaching.'  How  did  he  know  but  he  would  (with 
this  cloud  which,  as  you  say,  was  hanging  over  his  head)  do 
himself  more  harm  than  good  ?  Besides  (^I  said),  you  ought 
not  to  have  asked  him.  See  (I  said)  what  I  find  when 
i  come  here  now  ;  everybody  lays  the  information  of  Martin's 
letter  to  you."  "  It  is  a  great  shame,"  he  said  ;  '•  I  never  saw 
the  man  for  a  year,— I  don't  like  him.  I  never  saw  him  but 
twice  in  my  life."  "  Well,  but,"  I  said,  "  he  got  his  informa- 
tion  from   rroi)aganda,  and   knew  what  we  in   England  did 


176  LIFE   OF   CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

not  know."  '*  Well,  he  (Talbot)  knew  nothing'  of  this,  'but 
people  laid  everything  to  him."  "  Well,  then,"  I  said,  "  you  told 
a  person  of  high  consideration  in  Rome  you  were  sorry  he  was 
a  Newmanite."  This  was  taking  a  line  giving  effect  to  what 
he  had  said  to  me  about  Father  Newman's  doctrine.  "  Well," 
he  said,  "  Dr.  Brown  had  only  just  now  again  attacked  your 
doctrine  in  the  old  Rambler ;  and  do  you  know  what  Doctor 
Brown  says  of  Newman's  treatment  of  him  ?  "  "  Well,  no,  but 
of  late  he  (Brown)  has  acted  like  a  friend."  Talbot  then  said 
there  were  always  parties  ;  he  had  only  meant  that  he  had  not 
agreed  with  you  in  your  late  way  of  going  on  ;  I  forget  exactly 
what  he  said.  He  spoke  against  Manning's  sermons,  said  he 
had  said  many  queer  things,  it  was  not  only  you  who  had 
stated  one  wrong  proposition,  &c.  Then  he  asked  in  a  very 
friendly  way  if  you  would  come  to  Rome  next  year  and 
preach,  you  would  do  so  much  good.  Why,  even  Manning 
had  done  a  great  deal.  I  said  you  had  an  illness  which  gave 
me  little  hope  of  your  being  able  to  come.  He  said  he  had  felt 
so  much  your  being  treated  so  badly  by  Dr.  Cullen  about  the 
Bishopric.  .  .  .  Then  he  said,  (now  don't  laugh.  Father) :  "  Did 
I  think  you  would  let  yourself  be  made  a  Protonotary 
Apostolic,— you  would  have  nothing  to  do  but  wear  purple 
if  you  came  to  Rome  ?  "  "  Well,"  I  said,  "  Father  Newman 
would  accept  whatever  came  from  the  Holy  See  with  the 
greatest  respect,  but  I  really  cannot  say  what  he  would  do 
now."  Then  he  asked  me  with  hesitation  to  dine  with  him. 
As  you  will  see,  I  weakly  accepted  at  first,  and  Henry 
acquiesced.  Then  this  morning  we  talked  with  Palmer,  and 
after  he  went  I  wrote  the  enclosed  letter  [declining  to  dine 
with  him].  Palmer  wanted  us  to  go  under  a  protest.  I 
thought  that  a  half  measure.  This  is  all.  Oh  !  I  am  so 
tired  of  writinfT  and  jabbering.  I  hope  I  have  made  no 
mistake. 

On  receiving  this  letter  Dr.  Newman  wrote  as  follows  to 
Monsignor  Talbot  • 

'St.  Philip's  Day,  1867  (May  26th). 

'Dear  Monsignor  Talbot, —  I  have  received  with  much 
satisfaction  the  report  which  Father  St.  John  has  given  me 
of  your  conversations  with  him. 

'  I  know  you  have  a  good  heart ;  and  I  know  you  did  me 
good  service  in  the  Achilli  matter, — and  you  got  me  a  relic 
of  St.  Athanasius  from  Venice,  which  1  account  a  great 
treasure ;  and  for  these  reasons  I  have  been  the  more 
bewildered  at  your  having  of  late  years  taken  so  strong 
a  part   against    mo    without  (I    may  say)  any  real    ground 


THE  APPEAL  TO   ROME   (1867)  177 

whatever ;  or  rather,  I  should  have  been  bewildered  were 
it  not  that,  for  now  as  many  as  thirty-four  years,  it  has  been 
my  lot  to  be  misrepresented  and  opposed  without  any  inter- 
mission by  one  set  of  persons  or  another.  Certainly,  I  have 
desiderated  in  you,  as  in  many  others,  that  charity  which 
thinketh  no  evil,  and  have  looked  in  vain  for  that  consider- 
ateness  and  sympathy  which  is  due  to  a  man  who  has  passed 
his  life  in  attempting  to  subserve  the  cause  and  interests  of 
religion,  and  who,  for  the  very  reason  that  he  has  written  so 
much,  must,  from  the  frailty  of  our  common  nature,  have 
said  things  which  had  better  not  have  been  said,  or  left  out 
complements  and  explanations  of  what  he  has  said,  which 
had  better  have  been  added. 

'  I  am  now  an  old  man,  perhaps  within  a  few  years  of 
my  death,  and  you  can  now  neither  do  me  good  nor  harm. 
I  have  never  been  otherwise  than  well-disposed  towards 
you.  When  you  first  entered  the  Holy  Father's  immediate 
service,  I  used  to  say  Mass  for  you  the  first  day  of  every 
month,  that  you  might  be  prospered  at  your  important 
post ;  and  now  I  shall  say  Mass  for  you  seven  times, 
beginning  with  this  week,  when  we  are  keeping  the  Feast 
of  St.  Philip,  begging  him  at  the  same  time  to  gain  for 
you  a  more  equitable  judgment  of  us  and  a  kinder  feeling 
towards  us  on  the  part  of  our  friends,  than  we  have  of  late 
years  experienced. 

'  I  am,  dear  Monsignor  Talbot, 

Yours  very  sincerely  in  Christ, 

John  H.  Newman 

of  the  Oratorv.' 

Monsignor  Talbot's  reply  ran  as  follows  : 

'  My  dear  Father  Newman, —  Many  thanks  for  your  kind 
letter,  dated  on  the  Feast  of  St.  Philip.  Many  thanks  also 
for  your  promise  to  say  seven  Masses  for  me,  as  in  my 
delicate  position  near  the  sacred  person  of  the  Holy  Father, 
I  need  as  many  prayers  as  I  can  get. 

'  I  hope  that  now  we  may  resume  a  correspondence  which 
has  been  intermitted  for  so  long  a  period  of  time. 

*  Nevertheless,  I  must  say  that  you  have  been  misin- 
formed if  you  have  been  told  that  I  have  "  of  late  years 
taken  so  strong  a  part  against  you  without  any  real  ground 
whatever." 

'  I  do  not  know  who  may  have  been  your  informants, 
but  there  are  certain  mischief-makers  in  the  world,  whose 
chief  occupation  seems  to  be  to  make  feuds  amongst 
VOL.  II.  N 


178  LIFE   OF  CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

friends,  by  reporting  to  one  what  the  other  may  have  said 
of  him. 

*  I  do  not  deny  that  certain  expressions  in  your  later 
writings  have  not  pleased  me,  and  that  I  could  not  approve 
of  certain  acts  of  yours  which  had  the  appearance  of  being 
opposed  to  the  wishes  of  the  Holy  See. 

'  Besides,  a  certain  school  in  England  have  done  you 
much  harm  by  making  many  believe  that  you  sympathized 
with  their  detestable  views.  You  have  also  been  more  in- 
jured by  your  friends  than  your  enemies.  When  I  was  in 
England  three  years  ago,  I  heard  some  of  them  quoting  your 
name  in  opposition  to  the  Authority  of  the  Holy  See.  I 
remarked  that  there  was  a  party  forming  of  what  are  called 
"  Liberal  Catholics,"  who  wished  to  place  you  at  their  head, 
in  preference  of  professing  a  filial  devotion  to  the  Vicar  of 
Christ,  and  a  due  veneration  for  the  Chair  of  St.  Peter. 

'  There  is  a  saying :  "  God  defend  me  from  my  friends  ; 
I  can  defend  myself  from  my  enemies." 

'  Such  is  your  case.  For  twenty  years  I  was  your  warm 
admirer  and  defender,  and  should  be  delighted  to  be  so  still, 
but  when  I  found  that  there  was  a  dangerous  party  rising  in 
England,  who  quoted  your  name,  I  was  obliged  to  modify 
my  views,  and  stand  up  for  Ecclesiastical  Authority  in 
preference  of  worshipping  great  intellectual  gifts. 

*  As  for  yourself  personally,  my  love  and  affection  has 
never  varied.  I  may  have  lately  criticised  some  of  your 
public  acts,  as  I  have  done  those  of  many  others  of  my 
friends,  but  this  is  no  reason  why  any  coldness  should  exist 
between  priests  who  are  all  working  for  the  same  great  end, 
the  greater  glory  of  God,  and  salvation  of  souls. 

'  Believe  me, 

Sincerely  yours  in  Christ, 

Geo.  Talbot.' 

Ambrose  St.  John,  before  leaving  Rome,  wrote  a  last 
word  about  the  Rambler  article,  and  described  his  farewell 
interviews  with  Cardinals  Barnabo  and  Reisach. 

Father  Ambrose  St.  John  to  Dr.  Newman. 

'  May,  1S67. 

'  Dearest  Father, — Your  letter  of  the  7th  is  just  come, 
and  also  your  telegram  No.  2. 

'  I  \i2iVQ.  persisted  ^o\y\.  the  Rambler, — because  our  friends 
(Palmer  especially)  say  it  must  be  the  result  of  our  coming 
to  Rome, — that  they  have  quite  given  up  your  disobedience 


THE  APPEAL  TO   ROME   (1867)  179 

(the  Pope  saying  "  Newman  has  been  '  tutto  ubbediente  '  ") 
so  now  they  must  give  up  your  heterodoxy.     Here  you  have 
Franzehn's    article.      What   you    eventually   do    about    this 
cannot  be  determined  while  we  are  here.     Your  most  happy 
letter  to  the  Cardinal  enables  me  to  say  positively  that  "  so 
far  from  appealing  ad  misericordiam  (as  Talbot  said  to  me), 
you   courted  examination."     To    my  amazement   yesterday 
Talbot  told  me  coolly,  he  had  seen  the  letter ;  yet  he  forgot 
or  ignored  that,  and  has  declared  to  me  :    "  Poor  Newman, 
when  he  was  asked  for  an  explanation  only  begged  off  being 
called  to  Rome";  it  was  quite  consistent  with  this  that  he 
should    advise    me    not   to   show    your    letter    to   Cardinal 
Wiseman  to  the  Pope.     Perrone  and  Cardella  say  :  "  show 
it."     Palmer  says  :  "  show  it "  ;  so  I  am  going  to  Barnabo, 
(who  as  Henry  told  you  also  said  "  show  it ")  to  ask  for  a 
letter  for  an  audience.     De  Luca,  to  whom  I  showed  it.  was 
cautious  as  he  is  the  Head  of  the  Index,  said  I  must  get  the 
passages  of  the  Rambler  which  were  marked  and  their  trans- 
lation into  Italian.     He  was  very  friendly  but  more  cautious 
than  on  the  first  meeting.     Barnabo  was  very  warm,  down- 
right hearty,  said  he  loved  you  ;  that  you  were  a  saint,  saints 
were  persecuted,  like  Palotti,  people  made  use  of  your  name, 
and    pretended    to  have  your  protection — this   was    because 
you  had  such  a  charitable  heart.     Poor  old  man,  he  is  really 
a  very  good-hearted  man.     He  said  to  me  :  "  I  know  both 
men, — Manning  and  Newman.     I  know  Manning  best,  but 
I  love  Newman."     He  did  not  say,  but  the  contrast  led  me 
to   think    he    liked    your    unassuming   way    in    keeping    to 
yourself  and    doing  your   work.     I    know    this  is  rather  in 
contradiction  with  what  he  said    on    our   first  meeting,  but 
you  must  recollect    he  has  only  heard    one    side  before.     I 
asked    as    it    has    chanced    apropos   of  your  to-day's    letter, 
I  suppose  nothing   said    about  Father  Newman's  too  great 
influence  at  Oxford  affects  the  Oratory  at  Oxford.     No,  he 
said,  the   leave   ts  granted  for   the    Oratory.     Only    Father 
Newman    is  not  to  change  his  residence  ;  if  he    went    for  a 
month  this  or  that  time  it  would  not  be  making  his  residence 
there  of  course.     He  spoke  this  cautiously,  but  I  can  answer 
for  his  words ;  and   I  am    sure    with   you    we    must    on   no 
account  give  up  what  we  have  got.     I  presented  the  "  sup- 
plica  "  with  the  three  propositions  and  left  it  with  him,  and 
the  memorial  about  the  Bishop.     I  said   I  hoped  he  would 
not  treat  our  school  exceptionally.     How  could  I  think  so? 
Of  course  not.     I  said  we  had  felt  as  if  it  had  been  treated 
as    dangerous.     He    would    not   allow    this.  .  .      The    truth 

.N  2 


t8o  LIFE   OF  CARDINAL    NEWMAN 

is  those  who  have  the  gift  of  the  gab  (just  as  now)  get  their 
way  for  a  time.  I  have  gabbed  now  so  much  with  everybody 
that  I  am  getting  confused.  The  general  impression  of 
friends  is  that  I  have  gabbed  to  some  effect  for  the  present. 
I  called  on  Cardinal  Rcisach  to-day — very  bland  and  cour- 
teous— apologized  for  not  calling  on  you — talked  of  Oxford, 
said  it  was  different  from  German  Universities  where  men 
lived  in  Catholic  families,  e.g.  Bonn.  He  wanted  a  high 
school  of  studies  as  they  have  at  Stonyhurst.  He  is  no  good 
to  us,  and  I  left  him  gladly  ;  but  we  must  be  on  good  terms 
with  him — he  spoke  highly  of  you.  I  dined  with  Nardi 
yesterday  and  talked  a  great  deal  very  freely.  He  blames 
the  Civilta'^  for  puffing  Manning.  I  hope  we  shall  get  off  by 
Monday  next, — this  day  week.  .  .  . 

*A.  St.  John.' 

It  now  became  clear  that  all  was  gained  that  could  be 
hoped  for  from  the  visit  to  Rome.  The  disposition  to  speak 
well  of  Newman  was  universal.  It  was  desirable  that  a  full 
statement  in  writing  should  be  handed  in  to  Propaganda  on 
the  Oxford  question.  It  would  be  well  also  if  Newman  took 
some  opportunity  of  explaining  the  Rambler  article.  It  was 
quite  certain  that  the  explanation  would  be  received  as 
satisfactory.  A  full  statement  on  the  Oxford  episode  was 
drawn  up  by  Mr.  Palmer  and  handed  in  on  May  \6} 
The  Rambler  matter  had  of  course  to  wait  until  Newman 
found  or  made  his  own  opportunity  for  an  explanation  ;  and 
St.  John  and  his  companion  were  therefore  free  to  depart. 
They  reached  the  Oratory  in  time  for  St.  Philip's  feast  on 
May  26. 

Newman,  after  talking  things  over  with  Ambrose  St.  John, 
soon  came  to  the  conclusion  that  he  must  be  satisfied  with 
completely  clearing  his  reputation  for  orthodoxy  in  Rome. 
His  own  reply  to  Franzelin's  strictures  on  the  Rambler  ■axMzXo. 
must  be  careful  and  thorough.  As  to  the  Oxford  scheme, 
his  original  impression,  formed  after  the  appearance  of  Mr. 
Martin's  letter,  returned — that  it  must  be  dropped  ;  but  this 
step  was  not  finally  resolved  upon  until  August,  much  corre- 
spondence taking  place  with  Hope-Scott  in  the  interval.  This 
view  was  clearly  the  Bishop's.  Bishop  Ullathorne  discussed 
the  matter  fully  with  Propaganda  in  the  course  of  a  visit  to 

'  The  text  of  Mr.  Palmer's  statement  is  given  at  p.  549. 


THE   APPEAL  TO   ROME   (1867)  181 

Rome  in  June.  Newman  saw  him  for  the  first  time  after  his 
return  on  August  i,and  learned  that  in  Rome  they  considered 
the  Oxford  matter  at  an  end.  The  Bishop,  however,  did  not 
actually  say  what  he  evidently  meant,  that  the  entire  Oxford 
Oratory  plan  had  better  be  abandoned.  Dr.  Newman's 
conversation  with  Bishop  Ullathorne  is  recorded  in  the 
following  memorandum  : 

'  August  1st,  1867. 

'  I  have  just  come  from  calling  on  the  Bishop.  It  is  the 
first  conversation  I  have  had  with  him  since  his  return  from 
Rome. 

'  I  began  by  talking  about  his  examination  before  the 
Parliamentary  Commission  on  the  Ecclesiastical  Titles  Bill, 
— nothing  else. 

*  But  after  a  time  he  got  loose  from  it,  and  said  that  both 
at  Rome  and  since  his  return  Dr.  Manning  had  wished  to 
make  it  up  with  me.  I  said  that  I  was  just  now  in  corre- 
spondence with  Oakeley  on  the  subject,  and  told  the  Bishop 
what  I  had  said  : 

'  He  then  talked  of  Cardinal  Luca,  [who  had]  said  that 
the  Church  (or  the  Archbishop,  I  forget  which)  must  embrace 
all  opinions  in  the  one  faith,  stretching  out  his  arms. 

'  And  Cardinal  Barnabo  had  recommended  the  Bishops 
through  him  to  put  out  some  declaration  against  controversy, 
especially  by  laymen  and  in  periodicals. 

'  He  had  freely  spoken  to  Cardinal  Reisach  on  his  not 
having  taken  any  notice  of  me  in  England  last  year. 

'  He  said  Monsignor  Capalti,  Secretary  of  Propaganda, 
was  very  strong  about  my  going  to  Rome — implored  me — 
the  Bishop  in  speaking  to  me  evidently  acquiesced,  perhaps 
he  had  suggested  it  to  Capalti.  He  said  I  ought  to  stay  a 
whole  season  there — i.e.  what  he  said  came  to  this. 

'  Then  he  said  abruptly,  very  grave,  and  looking  straight 
at  me  :  "  I  find  that  at  Rome  they  consider  the  Oxford  matter 
quite  at  an  end."  I  answered:  "  I  suppose  they  mean  they 
have  said  their  last  word."  He  answered,  apparently  not  see- 
ing the  drift  of  my  question  :  "Yes."  What  I  meant  was  that 
we  had  got  leave  to  extend  our  Birmingham  Oratory  into 
Oxford,  provided  I  did  not  change  my  residence. 

'  As  to  educating  for  Oxford,  he  said  that  the  Bishops' 
Declaration  had  not  yet  returned  from  Rome.  He  could  not 
quite  tell  what  it  would  be.  As  sent  to  Rome,  it  said,  apropos 
of  a  priest  having  in  the  confessional  said  to  a  penitent  that 
there  was  no  sin  in  a  father  sending  his  son  to  Oxford,  that 


i82  LIFE   OF  CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

such  a  father  acted  against  the  will  of  the  Bishops  and  of  the 
Holy  See. 

'  J.  H.  N.' 

For  a  few  days  the  future  remained  still  uncertain,  as  is 
evident  from  some  words  in  a  letter  of  August  13  from 
Newman  to  Hope-Scott.  In  the  course  of  this  letter  we  find 
the  following  reference  to  Manning  : 

'  Manning  has  written  to  me  wishing  that  we  should  meet 
and  give  him  an  opportunity  of  explanation.  Of  course  I  seem 
to  put  myself  in  the  wrong  by  declining — but  I  seriously 
think  it  would  do  more  harm  than  good.  I  do  not  trust  him, 
and  his  new  words  would  be  the  cause  of  fresh  distrust.  This, 
as  far  as  I  could  do  delicately,  I  have  suggested  to  him.  I 
have  said  that  the  whole  world  thought  him  difficult  to  under- 
stand, that  I  should  be  glad  to  think  it  was  my  own  fault  that 
I  had  not  been  prepared  by  his  general  bearing  and  talk  for 
his  acts  ;  that  friendly  acts  would  be  the  best  preparation  for 
a  friendly  meeting — and  that  I  should  hail  that  day,  when 
the  past  had  been  so  far  reversed,  that  explanations  would  be 
natural  and  effectual.  At  present  I  should  not  in  my  heart 
accept  his  explanations.'  ^ 

In  point  of  fact  Manning  had  been  urging  Propaganda  to 
renew  in  a  yet  stronger  form  than  hitherto  the  dissuasion  to 
English  Catholic  parents  from  sending  their  sons  to  Oxford. 
And  a  fresh  rescript  arrived  in  this  very  month.  Newman 
had  in  the  meantime  written  to  Cardinal  Barnabo  protesting 
against  his  action,  which  has  been  already  alluded  to  in 
reference  to  Edgbaston  School.  The  text  of  this  correspon- 
dence I  have  been  unable  to  find.  But  from  a  note  by 
Newman  it  is  clear  that  it  became  angry,  and  that  Newman 
declared  that  he  left  his  cause  with  God,  using  the  words 
'  viderit  Deus.'  In  view  of  this  state  of  things  the  Oratory  at 
Oxford  was  finally  abandoned.  It  would  mean  a  false  posi- 
tion, and  one  which  was  not  likely  to  be  made  tenable  by  any 
special  sympathy  in  high  quarters, 

Newman  communicated  his  views  to  Hope-Scott : 

'  August  1 6th,  1867. 

'  My  dear  Hope-Scott, — The  Rescript  has  just  come  from 
Propaganda  to  the  Bishops,  from  which  they  will  draw  up 

'  These  words  refer  to  the  correspondence  in  the  Life  oj  Cardinal 
Martning,  pp.  327-42. 


THE   APPEAL  TO   ROME   (1867)  183 

their  Pastoral  Letters  to  Priests  and  People  on  the  subject  of 
University  Education. 

'  I  suppose  this  Rescript  will  not  be  brought  forward  ; 
and  the  immediate  authority  will  be  the  Pastoral.   .  .  . 

'  In  the  printed  Documents  {re  Bishop's  Pamphlet)  which 
I  sent  you  the  other  day,  I  have  said  two  things  : 

'  I.  That  I  go  to  Oxford  solely  because  there  are  Catholic 
Undergraduates  there.  .  .  . 

'  2.  That  my  going  there  must  tend  to  bring  Catholics 
there. 

'  And  now  those  two  avowals  are  confronted  by  the 
declaration  from  Propaganda  :  "  A  youth  can  scarcely,  or 
not  scarcely  even,  go  to  Oxford  without  throwing  himself 
into  a  proximate  occasion  of  mortal  sin." 

*  Does  it  not  follow  as  an  inevitable  sequence  in  logic, 
that  if  I  go  there  I  contemplate  youths  (or  their  parents) 
throwing  themselves  into  such  proximate  occasions  and 
moreover  distinctly  disobeying  their  Bishops  who  warn  them 
against  it,  and  secondly  that  I  co-operate  in  their  act  by 
encouraging  it  ? 

'  All  along  I  have  professed  and  felt  indifference,  reluc- 
tance, to  go  to  Oxford.  If  I  do  go  still  after  the  Bishop's 
Pastoral,  shall  I  not  fairly  be  considered  to  have  made  a 
profession  which  I  did  not  feel  or  mean  to  carry  out  ? 

'  It  seems  to  me  that  I  am  simply  in  a  false  position  if 
I  consent  to  go  on  with  the  Oxford  undertaking  after  the 
Rescript. 

'  The  question  is  ivJiat  I  must  do,  and  lohcti,  to  bring  the 
matter  to  an  end. 

'  I  do  not  see  any  difficulty  in  waiting  till  the  Bisho[) 
speaks  to  me,  for  the  reasons  which  I  shall  give  for  my  de- 
cision, he  has  already  heard,  and  they  are  quite  independent 
of  those  which  arise  out  of  the  Rescript.  The  simple  reason 
of  my  not  going  on  with  the  business  is,  that  to  my  surprise 
I  found  I  was  not  allowed  free  liberty  to  go  to  Oxford, 
This  was  the  reason  assigned  in  the  letter  which  I  wrote  to 
him  on  receipt  of  the  news,  and,  though  I  was  prevented  by 
our  Fathers  from  sending  that  letter,  I  showed  it  him  a  week 
or  two  after. 

'  I  would  rather  give  this  reason  than  make  it  seem  that 
I  withdrew  in  consequence  of  the  Rescript.  In  the  one  case 
I  shall  be  withdrawing  because  I  have  been  unfairly  treated  ; 
in  the  other,  because  I  have  been  detected  in  an  animus  and 
foiled  by  a  distinct  message  from  Rome. 

'The  two  grounds  are  so  distinct  that  if  I  bring  out  m)- 
own  ground  strongly  in  my  letter,  it  will  not  matter  whether 


1 84  LIFE   OF  CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

or  not  in  matter  of  fact  it  is  given  to  the  public  after  the 
expected  Pastoral  Letter.     Is  not  this  so  ?  .  .  , 

'  Ever  yours  affly, 

John  H.  Newman.' 

Acting  on  this  opinion,  in  which  Hope-Scott  concurred, 
Newman  wrote  as  follows  to  the  Bishop  : 

'The  Oratory,  Birmingham  :  August  iSth,  1867. 

'  My  dear  Lord, —  I  do  not  think  you  will  feel  any  surprise 
if  I  at  length  act  on  the  resolve  which  I  formed  on  the  very 
day  that  I  heard  of  the  restriction  placed  on  my  presence  in 
Oxford,  which  I  have  cherished  ever  since,  and  only  not 
carried  out  because  of  the  dissuasion  of  friends  here  and 
elsewhere. 

'  That  dissuasion  has  now  ceased  ;  and,  accordingly, 
I  now  ask  your  permission  to  withdraw  from  my  engage- 
ment to  undertake  the  Mission  of  Oxford,  on  the  ground 
that  I  am  not  allowed  by  Propaganda  the  freedom  to 
discharge  its  duties  with  effect. 

'  Thanking  you  for  all  your  kindnesi.,  and  with  much 
regret  for  the  trouble  I  have  caused  you, 

'  I  am,  &c.,  &c. 

J.  H.  N.' 

Bishop  Ullathorne's  reply  was  as  follows  : 

'  Birmingham  :  Aug.  19th,  1867. 

'  My  dear  Dr.  Newman, — Your  letter  reached  me  this 
morning  from  Stone.  I  am  not  at  all  surprised  that  you 
have  renounced  the  project  of  the  Oxford  Mission.  Were 
I  in  the  same  position,  I  should  do  the  same.  And  yet 
I  receive  the  announcement  of  your  decision  with  a  sense  of 
pain  both  acute  and  deep. 

*  I  have  no  hesitation  in  saying  it,  as  my  complete 
conviction,  that  you  have  been  shamefully  misrepresented  at 
Rome,  and  that  by  countrymen  of  our  own. 

'  When  I  went  thither  I  had  some  hope  of  being  able  to 
put  this  affair  more  straight.  But  when  I  got  there  I  plainly 
saw  that  the  time  had  not  come  for  an  impartial  hearing. 
Preoccupations  in  the  quarters  where  alone  representation  is 
effectual  were  still  too  strong,  and  minds  were  too  much 
occupied  with  the  vast  multitude  of  affairs  brought  to  Rome 
by  so  many  Bishops  there  assembled. 

'  On  the  other  hand,  the  closing  sentence  of  your  letter  to 
Cardinal  Barnabo,  which,  the  moment  I  read  it,  I  felt  would 
be  interpreted  in  a  much  stronger  sense  than  you  would  have 
intended,  made  so  unpleasant  an  impression  that  I  believe 


THE  APPEAL  TO  ROME   (1867)  185 

that  sentence  stood  as  a  considerable  obstacle  in  the  way  of 
those  explanations  which  were  proffered  by  your  own  re- 
presentatives.^ Indeed,  I  have  good  evidence  that  it  was  so, 
from  those  who  took  your  part  with  cordiality.  You  will 
quite  understand  that  I  am  not  making  a  reflection,  but 
pointing  out  a  fact. 

'  I  still  trust  that  the  time  will  come  when  the  facts  of  the 
case  will  be  better  understood  at  Rome,  and  when  justice  will 
be  done  to  you. 

*  Wishing  you  every  blessing, 

I  remain,  my  dear  Dr.  Newman, 
Your  faithful  &  affectionate  servant  in  Christ, 

W.  B.  Ullathorne.' 

'  This  is  probably  the  letter  referred  to  at  page  182.  Newman's  own  view  of 
the  whole  episode  is  naturally  that  which  I  have  set  forth  in  the  text.  But  here, 
as  in  the  Irish  University  question,  the  attitude  of  the  ecclesiastical  authorities 
will  be  very  intelligible  to  the  careful  reader.  The  '  secret  instruction '  which 
made  so  painful  an  impression  on  Newman,  coming  to  his  knowledge  as  it  did 
coupled  with  Mr.  Martin's  unfriendly  interpretation  of  its  real  import,  was,  as 
has  been  explained  at  p.  139,  not  in  intention  unfriendly  to  him.  Cardinal 
Barnabo  (see  p.  160)  considered  that  it  ought  to  have  been  communicated  to 
Newman  when  the  danger  was  apparent  that  he  might  collect  money  from  those 
who,  when  subscribing,  considt-red  that  he  was  free  to  reside  at  Oxford.  The 
leave  for  an  Oxford  Oratory  had,  as  we  have  seen,  been  granted  by  Propaganda 
on  the  strength  of  Dr.  Ullathorne's  explanation  that  Newman  did  not  mean 
actually  to  reside  there  (p.  179).  Propaganda  held  that  such  residence  would 
militate  against  Pius  IX. 's  policy  of  opposition  to  '  mixed  '  education  and  therefore 
could  not  sanction  it.  But  Dr.  Ullathorne  had  been  afraid  of  communicating 
to  Newman  this  condition  lest  he  should  misunderstand  its  true  significance, 
and  had  not  informed  him  that  he  (the  Bishop)  had  received  instructions  to 
make  sure  that  the  condition  was  observed.  The  true  facts  eventually  came 
to  Newman's  knowledge  together  with  an  extremely  painful  and  untrue  suggestion 
as  to  the  reason  for  the  proviso  in  question.  And  Newman's  correspondence 
with  Cardinal  Barnabo  had  afterwards  assumed  a  tone  so  unfavourable  to  the 
successful  negotiation  of  a  difficult  matter,  that  the  whole  scheme  was  necessarily 
dropped.     This  appears  to  be  the  outcome  of  the  whole  story. 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

THE   DEADLOCK     IN     HIGHER    EDUCATION    (1867) 

The  final  relinquishment  of  the  Oxford  scheme  left  the 
extreme  party  triumphant  ;  but  it  left  the  practical  prob- 
lem of  higher  education  for  English  Catholics  unsolved. 
The  Catholic  University  in  Ireland  had  originally  been  de- 
signed to  solve  it,  but  it  had  failed.  Catholics  were  now 
authoritatively  warned  against  Oxford  and  Cambridge ;  but 
where  else  were  they  to  go  for  University  training  ?  It  was 
part  of  what  Newman  afterwards  called  the  policy  of 
'  Nihilism '  pursued  by  the  authorities.^  Actual  difficulties 
were  not  faced  ;  practicable  remedies  were  not  found.  It 
had  been  the  same  with  his  work  for  Christian  thought  in 
the  Rambler.  Defects  had  been  censured  ;  the  work  was 
crushed  and  not  carried  out  on  lines  free  from  objection. 

Newman  could  not  but  feel  that  to  persevere  now  in  an 
endeavour  of  which  the  utility  was  so  little  appreciated  was 
but  to  waste  his  time.  An  opportunity  would  soon  be  found 
for  the  coup  de  grace  if  he  did  not  now  of  his  own  accord 
retire.  It  only  remained  to  resign  himself  to  uselessness  in  a 
matter  in  which  his  antecedents  seemed  to  mark  him  out  as 
so  supremely  useful,  and  to  do  faithfully  his  duty  to  all 
concerned — the  Pope,  the  Bishops,  and  the  Catholic  parents. 

His  feeling  at  the  time  of  finally  abandoning  the  scheme, 
is  given  in  a  letter — very  grave,  very  measured,  very  sad — to 
Father  Coleridge : 

'  The  Oratory,  Birmingham:  August  30lh,  1867. 

'  My  dear  Father  Coleridge, — Thank  you  for  your  affec- 
tionate letter.  There  are  a  hundred  reasons  why  I  was 
bound  to  bring  the  Oxford  matter  to  an  end. 

'  For  three  years  complete  it  has  involved  me  in  endless 
correspondence,  conversation,  controversy,  and  bother,  taking 

'  See  p.  486. 


THE  DEADLOCK  IN  HIGHER  EDUCATION  (1867)     187 

up  my  time  and  thoughts.  I  felt  it  was  wrong  thus  to  fritter 
away  any  longer  such  remaining  time  as  God  gives  me.  It 
has  been  my  Cross  for  years  and  years  that  I  have  gone  on 
"operose  nihil  agendo." 

'There  was  the  Rambler  matter.  The  Cardinal  and  our 
Bishop  urged  me  to  interfere  with  the  conductors — and 
thanked  me  when  I  consented.  It  involved  me  in  endless 
trouble  and  work.  The  correspondence  is  a  huge  heap. 
I  have  been  obliged  to  arrange  and  complete  it  with  notes 
and  collateral  papers,  that  I  may  ultimately  be  shown  to  have 
acted  a  good  part.  This  was  the  work  of  four  or  five  years, 
and  what  came  of  it  ? 

'  I  seem  to  be  similarly  circumstanced  as  regards  the 
Dublin  University  matters  from  1852  to  1858.  Letters  and 
papers  without  end  and  about  nothing — and  those  not  yet 
sorted  and  arranged. 

'  I  do  believe  my  first  thought  has  ever  been  "  what 
does  God  wish  me  to  do  ? "  so  I  can't  really  be  sorry 
or  repine — but  I  have  very  few  persons  on  earth  to  thank — 
and  I  have  felt  no  call,  after  so  many  rebuffs,  to  go  on  with 
this  Oxford  undertaking,  and  I  am  come  to  the  conclusion 
that,  if  Propaganda  wants  me  for  any  purpose,  it  must  be  so 
good  as  to  ask  me — and  I  shall  wait  to  be  asked — i.e.  (as  I 
anticipate)  "ad  Graecas  calendas." 

'See  what  a  time  it  has  taken  to  tell  you  reason  one.  I 
will  mention  only  one  other,  which  is  abundantly  clear,  (if  it 
ever  were  doubtful)  from  the  answers  I  have  had  to  my  late 
circular.  The  money  was  given  to  me  personally — the  sub- 
scribers wanted  to  see  vie  in  Oxford  (I  am  talking  of  the 
majority  of  them) — they  would  not  give  their  money  for  an 
Oxford  mission  merely.  When  the  Propaganda  decided  that 
I  was  not  personally  to  be  there,  it  would  have  been  a  mis- 
appropriation of  their  money  to  spend  it  merely  on  an  Oxford 
Church.  .  .  . 

'  Yours  affectionately, 

John  H.  Newman.' 

Newman's  letters  during  the  remainder  of  this  year  show 
constantly  his  great  anxiety  both  to  clear  completely  his 
reputation  for  orthodoxy  and  loyalty  at  Rome  and  to  act  in 
strict  conformity  with  his  duty  towards  the  Bishops.  Hope- 
Scott  had  put  down  his  solicitude  as  to  Roman  opinion  to 
undue  sensitiveness.  Early  in  the  year  he  had  ascribed  to 
the  same  cause  Newman's  fears  lest  the  suspicions  of  his 
orthodoxy  on  the  part  of  such  men  as  Mr.  Martin,  and  certain 


1 88  LIFE   OF  CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

rumours  on  the  same  subject  which  had  found  currency  in 
the  Chronicle,  might  do  him  further  harm.  When  the  existence 
of  the  '  secret  instruction '  became  known  Newman  had 
written  to  him  claiming  that  his  suspicions  were  justified. 

Dr.  Newman  to  Mr.  Hope-Scott. 

'April  13,  1867. 
*  I  think  it  is  now  proved  that  what  you  called  my  "  sen- 
sitiveness "  was  not  timidity,  or  particularity,  or  touchiness, 
but  a  true  instinct  of  the  state  of  the  ecclesiastical  atmo- 
sphere—nor is  it  wonderful  that  I  should  know  more  than 
you  of  what  threatened  and  what  did  not,  as  you  (I  suspect) 
would  know  more  than  I  could  know  about  the  temper  of 
Parliamentary  committees,  and  Gladstone  more  than  myself 
about  political  parties.  That  neophyte,  Mr.  Martin,  is  an 
index  of  the  state  of  the  weather  at  Rome,  as  the  insects 
swarming  near  the  earth  is  a  sign  of  rain  ; — and  rash  sayings 
in  the  Chro?iicle  may  be  of  as  much  danger  indirectly  to  my 
influence  in  England,  as  an  open  window  may  avail  to  give 
me  a  cold.  .  .  .  No  one  but  myself  knows  how  intensely 
anxious  I  have  been,  since  I  have  been  a  Catholic,  never  to 
say  anything  without  good  theological  authority  for  saying 
it,  and,  though  of  course  with  the  greatest  care  the  humana 
incuria  is  at  fault,  yet  I  have  no  reason  to  suppose  that  my 
mistakes  are  more  than  those  which  all  writers  incur  ; — yet 
there  is  no  doubt  that  I  am  looked  at  with  suspicion  at  Rome, 
because  I  will  not  go  the  whole  hog  in  all  the  extravagances 
of  the  school  of  the  day,  and  I  cannot  move  my  finger  without 
giving  offence.' 

The  report  brought  by  Ambrose  St.  John  from  Rome  in 
May  had  done  something  towards  allaying  Newman's  fears 
as  to  Roman  suspicions  of  his  orthodoxy.  And  the  more 
favourable  impression  was  confirmed  by  a  visit  in  August 
from  Monsignor  Nardi,  which  is  recorded  with  a  good  deal 
of  dry  humour  in  a  memorandum  written  by  Newman  at 
the  time.  That  Italian  prelate's  words  went  to  show  that 
it  was  in  England,  rather  than  in  Rome,  that  he  had  active 
enemies  who  impugned  the  soundness  of  his  theology. 

'August  24,  1867. 

*  Monsignor  Nardi  came  here  for  an  hour  or  two  yesterday. 
I  will  set  down  some  of  the  things  he  said  in  a  long 
conversation. 


THE  DEADLOCK  IN  HIGHER  EDUCATION  (1867)      189 

'  I  was  a  great  man — no  denying  it — a  great  writer — good 
style — good  strong  logic — my  style  went  very  easily  into 
Italian — it  was  a  classical  style.  Of  course  I  had  my  enemies 
— they  are  in  England  or  Englishmen — but  all  Catholics,  to 
speak  as  a  whole,  were  my  friends.  He  did  not  speak  from 
flattery — no — he  always  spoke  his  mind,  even  to  the  Pope. 
He  was  one  of  the  consultors  of  the  Index.  There  were 
things  in  what  I  had  written  which  he  did  not  like — that 
about  original  sin  (here  I  set  him  right,  and  he  seemed 
to  give  in — he  had  forgotten  "  deprivation  and  the  con- 
sequences of  deprivation  " — he  could  hardly  believe  I  had 
made  this  addition)  and  that  about  a  people's  religion  being 
a  corrupt  religion.^  But  perhaps  the  vehemence  of  writing 
could  not  be  helped.  I  had  very  good  friends.  Father  St. 
John  was  a  good  friend  of  mine,  very — and  a  great  gentleman. 
Cardinal  Cullen  was  a  good  friend,  yes — a  very  good  friend. 
I  understood  him  to  mean  by  "  good  friends  "  persons  who  had 
been  a  real  service  to  me.  I  ought  to  send  persons  from 
time  to  time  to  explain  things  and  keep  authorities  at  Rome 
a!i  courant.  I  ought  to  go  to  Rome  myself.  It  would  rejoice 
the  Holy  Father — I  ought  to  be  a  Bishop,  Archbishop — yes 
yes — I  ought,  I  ought, — yes,  a  very  good  Bishop — it  is  your 
line,  it  is,  it  is — it  was  no  good  my  saying  it  was  not. 

'  I  ought  to  take  the  part  of  the  Pope.  "  We  have  very 
few  friends,"  he  said — "  very  few  " — he  spoke  in  a  very  grave 
earnest  mournful  tone — no  one  could  tell  what  was  to 
take  place  in  Rome,  the  next,  not  year  but,  month.  All 
through  Italy  the  upper  class  was  infidel — and  the  lower  was 
getting  profane  and  blasphemous.  This  was  for  want  of 
education — the  fault  of  Austria.  Infidels  were  put  over  its 
education — the  churches  turned  into  granaries  and  stables. 
The  next  generation  would  be  infidels,  far  worse  than  the 
present.  There  was  no  chance  of  a  reaction.  All  this  was 
no  fault  of  the  Priests — perhaps  there  were  1,000  Priests  in 
Italy  who  had  turned  out  bad — but  what  were  they  out  of 
160,000  ? 

*  What  we  wanted  in  England  for  Catholics  was  education 
— how  could  youths  whose  education  ended  at  17  or  18 
compete  with  those  whose  education  went  on  to  22  ?  There 
was  no  chance  of  a  Catholic  University.  He  seemed  to 
agree  with  me  that  London  was  as  bad  as  Oxford — worse, 
he  had  been  in  the  neighbourhood  of  (I  think)  Charing  Cross 

'  In  his  Letter  to  Pusey  he  had  written  as  follows  :  '  A  people's  rcli£^ion  is 
ever  a  corrupt  religion  in  spite  of  the  provisions  of  Holy  Church.' — Difficulties  of 
Anglicans,  ii.  8i. 


igo  LIFE   OF   CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

lately  in  the  evening,   no  priest  could  walk  there — no — he 
was  obliged  to  call  a  cab. 

'  He  wanted  to  see  Father  Ryder's  pamphlet — William 
gave  him  a  copy — he  wanted  my  photograph.  I  gave  him 
two,' 

Although,  however,  both  Ambrose  St.  John's  report  and 
the  visit  of  the  Roman  Monsignor  had  somewhat  encouraged 
Newman  as  to  the  friendliness  of  Rome,  his  anxiety  was  by 
no  means  at  an  end.  The  Oratory  School  was  still  gossiped 
about  as  preparing  boys  for  Oxford  against  the  wishes  of  the 
Holy  See.  His  interchange  of  letters  with  Cardinal  Barnabo 
showed  that  that  prelate  looked  at  the  school  with  suspicion. 
With  the  memory  still  green  of  his  two  crushing  rebuffs  in 
the  Oxford  matter,  it  is  not  surprising  that  he  became  anxious 
lest  some  pretext  might  be  found  for  bringing  to  an  end  the 
Oratory  School.  These  fears  he  communicated  to  Hope-Scott 
on  September  9  : 

'  It  seems  to  me  certain,  that,  if  we  go  on  just  as  we  are 
going  on  now,  our  school  will  be  stopped.  We  shall  have 
endless  trouble,  correspondence,  inquiries,  false  reports,  ex- 
planations, letters  to  Propaganda,  journeys  to  Rome,  ending, 
after  some  years  and  a  languishing  concern,  in  an  order  from 
Rome,  or  a  recommendation  from  our  Bishop,  to  wind  up. 

'  The  simplest  way  of  all  is  to  stop  now,  and  on  the 
ground  of  [Cardinal  Barnabo's]  letter,  stating  how  we  prac- 
tically interpret  it,  and  the  result  which  it  foreshadows  ; — but 
then,  I.  I  doubt  whether  we  should  carry  our  friends  with  us  ; 
friends  and  enemies  would  say  it  was  "  sensitiveness  "  in  me, 
and  enemies  would  have  the  double  pleasure  of  blaming  me 
and  rejoicing  in  my  act.  2.  It  would  be  a  loss  of  perhaps 
as  much  as  50/.  a  year,  the  interest  of  the  money  which 
the  Oratory  or  individual  Fathers  have  lent  to  the  school. 
3.  Better  times  may  come  ;  if  we  once  stop  the  school,  we 
cannot  recommence  it ;  it  is  gone  for  ever.  4.  We  are  doing 
the  Birmingham  Oratory  a  great  service  in  rooting  it  in  the 
minds  and  affections  of  the  next  generation  by  setting  up 
an  educational  system  such  as  ours,  and  indirectly  by  our 
action  in  other  Catholic  schools. 

'  But  then,  on  the  other  hand,  look  at  this  last  reason. 
In  proportion  as  we  are  doing  good,  we  are  offending  the 
Catholic  school  interest  throughout  the  country,  and  Ushaw 
and  Stonyhurst  neither  like  a  new  establishment  to  take  their 
boys  from  them  nor  to  put  them  on  their  mettle.     That  we 


THE  DEADLOCK  IN  HIGHER  EDUCATION  (1867)     191 

are  something  new  tells  with  great  force  at  Rome,  where  the 
defects  of  English  Catholic  secular  education  are  not  under- 
stood. I  think  there  is  a  determination  not  to  let  me  have 
anything  to  do  with  education.  W.  G.  Ward  openly  confesses 
this ;  Manning  does  not,  but  then  four  years  ago,  in  an 
enumeration  in  the  Dublin  Revieiv  of  the  English  Catholic 
Schools,  he  pointedly  left  ours  out ;  and  about  the  same  time 
his  head  Oblate  at  Bayswater,  writing  to  me  on  another 
matter,  let  drop  in  the  course  of  his  letter  that  our  school 
was  only  a  temporary  concern. 

'What  is  the  good  of  spending  an  additional  penny  on 
our  school  ?  is  it  not  flinging  away  good  money  after  bad  ? 

*  Suppose  we  limited  our  boys  to  the  age  of  fourteen  or 
sixteen,  which  is  in  principle  what  we  originally  intended  ;— 
and  to  this  day  no  other  school  can  boast,  as  we  can,  of 
our  care  of  young  boys.  We  could  in  our  Prospectus  and 
Advertisement  enlarge  on  this.  Or  again,  without  committing 
ourselves  to  a  limit,  suppose  we  in  our  own  minds  prepared 
for  it,  made  up  our  minds  to  it  as  a  result  of  Cardinal 
Barnabo's  letter  to  me.  Suppose  we  left  everything  alone, 
but  this,  viz.  to  add  to  our  Prospectus  and  Advertisement  : 
"  In  consequence  of  special  instructions  received  from  the 
Cardinal  Prefect  of  Propaganda,  and  to  carry  out  the  wishes 
of  our  Bishops,  as  expressed  in  their  united  letter,  Father 
Newman  wishes  it  to  be  known  (to  his  friends)  that  no  boy 
is  received  at  the  Oratory  School,  who  is  intended  by  his 
parents  for  the  Universities  of  Oxford  and  Cambridge,  and 
that  he  hopes  for  their  friendly  aid  to  enable  him  to  observe 
bona  fide  this  rule." 

'  You  will  let  me  have  your  thoughts  on  the  whole  subject. 
Ambrose  is  going  to  consult  Bishop  Clifford.' 

While  Newman  was  deliberating  as  to  his  best  course  with 
a  view  to  preserving  the  school,  he  felt  that  his  only  safe  plan 
when  conversing  with  the  parents  of  boys  was  to  avoid  the 
question  of  Oxford  altogether.  He  definitely  declined  to 
speak  of  it  in  letters  to  parents  who  consulted  him  as  to  the 
future  of  their  boys. 

The  Bishop  of  Birmingham  issued  a  Pastoral  in  October 
discouraging  Catholics  from  going  to  Oxford,  Newman 
hastened  to  intimate  his  obedience.  He  at  once  inserted  the 
following  passage  in  the  Oratory  School  prospectus : 

'  In  accordance  with  the  instructions  contained  in  the 
Pastoral  of  the  Bi.shop  of  Birmingham  of  October  13th,  1867, 


192  LIFE   OF  CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

there  is  no  preparation  provided  for  the  examinations  at 
Oxford  and  Cambridge.' 

Newman's  anxious  conscientiousness  did  not  go  without 
its  reward.  Dr.  Ullathorne  and  other  friends  were  instant 
and  indignant  in  their  representations  at  Rome  both  as  to 
his  whole-hearted  loyalty  and  his  orthodoxy.  On  the  other 
hand,  the  party  which  accused  his  writings  of  being  unsound 
were  active  in  making  their  views  known  at  headquarters. 
In  the  end  their  busy  gossip  defeated  its  object.  Pius  IX., 
who  had  ever  shown  for  Newman  both  regard  and  considera- 
tion, determined  to  bring  matters  to  a  head,  and  applied  to 
Dr.  Cullen,  as  a  responsible  authority  who  knew  Newman's 
writings  well,  for  an  opinion  as  to  their  orthodoxy.  The 
result  was  so  entirely  favourable  that  Newman  was,  wath  the 
Pope's  approval,  invited  later  on  both  to  help  in  preparing 
matter  for  the  Vatican  Council  and  to  assist  at  the  Council 
itself  as  one  of  the  official  theologians. 

Dr.  Cullen's  report  was  made  known  to  Newman  in  the 
autumn  of  1867  at  the  Pope's  express  desire.  The  news  was 
a  ray  of  sunshine  in  gloomy  weather. 

'  I  consider,'  Newman  writes  in  a  note  dated  1872,  'that 
the  Pope  having  sent  to  Dr.  Cullen  to  ask  about  the  character 
and  drift  of  my  writings,  and  Dr.  Cullen  having  reported  to 
nim  most  favourably,  and  he  (the  Pope)  having  wished  this 
distinctly  to  be  told  me,  and  then  two  years  after  having 
invited  me  as  a  theologian  to  the  Ecumenical  Council,  alto- 
gether wipes  off  Mr.  Martin,  Zulueta,  &c.,  &c.' 

It  was  perhaps  the  fresh  courage  which  the  good  news 
from  Rome  gave  which  made  him  ready  now  to  .speak  his 
mind  more  openly  as  to  the  Oxford  question.  A  very  full 
letter  to  a  friend  reviews  the  situation  with  great  care : 

'  The  Oratory,  Novr.  10,  1867. 

'  My  dear  Lady  Simeon, — Your  letter  came  yesterday, 
I  answer  at  once  to  the  best  of  my  ability,  it  being  my  matter 
as  well  as  it  is  yours,  and  perhaps  a  greater  difficulty  to  me 
than  to  you. 

'  Let  me  begin  by  saying  plainly  that  after  the  Propaganda 
Rescript,  only  under  very  peculiar,  extraordinary  circum- 
stances could  I  make  myself  responsible  for  a  youth's  going 
to  Oxford.     If  he  turned  out   ill,  it  would    not  satisfy  my 


THE   DEADLOCK   IN   HIGHER   EDUCATION  (1867)   193 

mind  to  say  "  There  are  greater  dangers  in  periodical  litera- 
ture than  in  Oxford,  he  would  have  gone  wrong  wheresoever 
he  was."  I  should  have  before  me  a  result  which  I  had 
directly  caused,  not  an  hypothesis. 

'  Having  said  this  at  starting,  let  me  now  state  the  case  as 
it  really  lies. 

'  I.  I  say  with  Cardinal  l?ellarmine  whether  the  Pope  be 
infallible  or  not  in  any  pronouncement,  anyhow  he  is  to  be 
obeyed.  No  good  can  come  from  disobedience.  His  facts 
and  his  warnings  may  be  all  wrong ;  his  deliberations  may 
have  been  biassed.  He  may  have  been  misled.  Imperiousness 
and  craft,  tyranny  and  cruelty,  may  be  patent  in  the  conduct 
of  his  advisers  and  instruments.  But  when  he  speaks  formally 
and  authoritatively  he  speaks  as  our  Lord  would  have  him 
speak,  and  all  those  imperfections  and  sins  of  individuals  are 
overruled  for  that  result  which  our  Lord  intends  (just  as  the 
action  of  the  wicked  and  of  enemies  to  the  Church  are  over- 
ruled) and  therefore  the  Pope's  word  stands,  and  a  blessing 
goes  with  obedience  to  it,  and  no  blessing  with  disobedience. 

'  2.  But  next,  I  say,  there  is  no  command,  no  prohibition  in 
the  Propaganda  Rescript  which  is  the  subject  of  your  letter: 
And  this,  on  purpose.  The  Pope  might  have  prohibited  youth 
from  going  to  Oxford  had  he  been  so  minded,  but  he  has  not 
done  so.  For  three  years  past  it  has  been  declared  by  the 
Bishops  in  England,  that  there  should  be  no  prohibition. 
At  the  Episcopal  meeting  in  December  1864  two,  and  two 
only,  of  the  Bishops  were  for  a  prohibition.  In  the  spring 
Cardinal  Barnabo  told  Father  St.  John  that  there  would  be 
no  prohibition.  He  said  "  We  shall  do  as  we  did  in  Ireland 
twenty  years  ago.  Archbishop  McHale  wished  a  prohibition 
but  we  only  dissuaded.     This  we  shall  do  now." 

*  3.  What  then  is  the  message  if  not  a  prohibition  ?  It  is 
the  greatest  of  dissuasions.  It  throws  all  the  responsibility 
of  the  act  upon  those  who  send  a  youth  to  Oxford.  It  is  an 
authoritative  solemn  warning. 

*  4.  Is  not  this  equivalent  to  a  prohibition  ?  No.  A 
prohibition  must  be  obeyed  implicitly — but  when  the  Pope 
condescends  not  to  command,  but  to  reason,  he  puts  the  case 
as  it  were  into  our  hands  and  makes  us  the  ultimate  judge, 
he  taking  the  place  of  a  witness  of  preponderating  authority. 

'5.  What  follows  from  this  ?  That  all  the  responsibility 
falls  on  the  parent  who  sends  his  son  to  Oxford,  that  he 
must  in  his  own  conscience  make  out  a  case  strong  enough 
to  overcome  in  his  particular  case  the  general  dissuasion  of 
the  Vicar  of  Christ.     pA'cry  rule  has  its  exceptions.      He  has 

VOL.  II.  o 


T94  I-IFK   OF   (WRDINAL   NEWMAN 

to  prove  to  the  satisfaction  of  his  conscience  on  his  death- 
bed, to  the  satisfaction  of  the  priest  who  hears  his  confession, 
that  the  case  of  his  own  boy  is  an  exceptional  one. 

'6.  And  such  exceptions  there  arc.  Let  me  illustrate 
what  I  mean.  IVe  must  take  care  of  the  young  one  by  one, 
as  a  mother  does,  and  as  an  Archbishop  does  not.  JVe 
know  our  own,  one  by  one  (if  we  are  priests  with  the  pastoral 
charge)  as  our  ecclesiastical  rulers  cannot  know  them.  It 
were  well  indeed  if  some  high  prelates  recollected  more 
than  they  seem  to  do  the  words  of  the  Apostle  :  "  Fathers 
provoke  not  your  children  to  anger  lest  they  become  pusil- 
lanimous," depressed,  disgusted,  disappointed,  unsettled, 
reckless.  Youth  is  the  time  of  generous  and  enthusiastic 
impulses  ;  young  men  are  imprudent,  and  get  into  scrapes. 
Perhaps  they  fall  in  love  imprudently.  To  carry  out  an 
engagement  on  which  they  have  set  their  hearts  may  seem  to 
their  parents  a  madness  ;  most  truly,  yet  it  may  be  a  greater 
madness  to  prohibit  it.  All  of  us  must  recollect  instances 
when  to  suffer  what  is  bad  in  itself  is  the  lesser  of  great  evils, 
as  the  event  has  shown.  When  there  has  been  a  successful 
prohibition  it  has  resulted  in  a  life-long  ruin  to  the  person 
who  is  so  dear  to  us,  for  whose  welfare  we  have  been  mis- 
takenly zealous.  It  does  not  do  to  beat  the  life  out  of  a 
youth — the  life  of  aspirations,  excitement  and  enthusiasm. 
Older  men  live  by  reason,  habit  and  self-control,  but  the 
\oung  live  by  visions.  I  can  fancy  cases  in  which  Oxford 
would  be  the  salvation  of  a  }'outh  ;  when  he  would  be  far 
more  likely  to  rise  up  against  authority,  murmur  against  his 
superiors,  and  (more)  to  become  an  unbeliever,  if  he  is  kept 
from  Oxford  than  if  he  is  sent  there. 

'  7.  Now  as  to I  am  far  from  making  such  dreadful 

vaticinations  about  him.  I  will  but  say  that  he,  being  a  boy, 
must  be  treated  with  the  greatest  care.  It  is  certain  that 
the  prospect  of  going  to  Oxford  roused  him  into  an  activity 
w  hich  he  had  not  before.  Also  I  am  told  that  he  was  con- 
siderably excited  on  hearing  in  Church  our  Bishop's  Pastoral 
read. 

'  8.  This  then  is  what  I  recommend,  viz.  :  He  is  only 
seventeen.  Youths  do  not  go  to  Oxford  till  they  are 
nineteen.     Do   nothing   at    present.     His    name    is   already 

down  at  .     Wait  for  a  year  and  a  half;  many  things 

may  turn  up  in  that  time.  For  instance  there  is  a  talk  of 
Oxford  Examinations  and  degrees  being  opened  to  those 
who  have  not  resided,  and  Father  Weld  said  the  other  day  to 
me  that  he  should  prefer  such  an  opening  for  his  students  to 


THE   DEADLOCK   IN   HIGHER   EDUCATION  (1867)     195 

their  taking  their  degrees  at  the  London  University.  This  is 
one  outlet  from  the  difficulty,  others  may  show  themselves. 
Therefore  I  recommend  waiting  and  temporizing. 

'9.  I  don't  see  there  is  any  call  upon  you  to  initiate  any- 
thing, though  you  are  bound  to  speak  when  questions  are 
asked  for.  But  this  is  a  matter  for  your  confessor.  One 
thing  I  am  strong  upon  ; — boys  are  ticklish  animals  and  I 
think  you  had  better  not  write  to . 

'  Excuse,  my  dear  Lady  Simeon,  the  freedom  of  this 
letter  and  believ^e  me,  &c.,  &c. 

J.  H.  N.' 

Although  there  was  no  positive  and  universal  prohibi- 
tion from  Rome  on  the  O.xford  question,  it  was  clear  that  the 
Catholic  young  men  as  a  body  would  now  keep  away  from 
the  Universities.  There  was  naturally  a  strong  feeling  among 
the  laity  that  their  sons  were  left  with  no  provision  for  their 
education.  And  many  thought  the  objection  to  Oxford  quite 
ungrounded.  '  The  only  foundation,'  wrote  Newman  himself, 
'  for  the  statement  that  Catholics  at  Oxford  have  made  ship- 
wreck of  the  faith  that  the  Bishop  and  we  could  make  out 
was  that  Weld  Blundell  ducked  a  Puseyite  in  Mercury,  and 
Redington  has  been  talking  loosely  about  the  Temporal 
Power  in  Rome.'  The  Jesuits  and  Archbishop  Manning  now 
discussed  the  formation  of  a  Catholic  University  College,  and 
Father  Weld,  a  Jesuit  father,  sought  Newman's  co-operation. 
Newman  felt,  however,  that  such  a  scheme  had  little  chance 
of  success.  It  was  not  likely  to  be  in  the  hands  of  a  really 
representative  committee,  but  rather  in  those  of  Manning's 
friends.  The  laity  would  not  be  fairly  represented.  And 
he  had  come,  after  his  Irish  experience,  to  think  a  Catholic 
University  not  practicable.  There  is  little  heart  or  hope 
in  his  letter  to  Hope-Scott  on  the  subject  : 

To  Mr.  Hope-Scott. 

•  Rcdnal :  Sept.  25,  1867. 
'  My  dear  Hope-Scott, — The  Archbishop  is  going  to  set 
up  a  House  of  higher  studies — report  says  it  is  to  be  near 
Reading  and  that  he  has  got  large  sums  of  money.  I  sup- 
pose he  has  been  urged  on  by  the  Pope,  or  by  Propaganda 
— for  I  don't  think  he  will  like  this  additional  and  most 
anxious  work  on  his  hands.      I   know  it  from  I'^ather  Weld, 

o  2 


196  LIFE   OF  CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

who  has  sent   me  word   that   he   is   going   to   call   on    me 
about  it. 

*  This  concerns  both  you  and  me,  for  your  influence  as  a 
layman  cannot  be  overlooked  ;  and  I  wish  to  act  with  you, 
though  our  lines  are  separate  ;  for  they  will  come  toyoti  with 
the  desire  of  finding  means  ;  and  as  to  me  I  don't  suppose 
they  want  my  advice  or  co-operation,  but  only  my  name. 

'  Now  suppose  he  comes  to  say  that  there  is  to  be  a 
Committee,  and  the  Archbishop  wishes  me  to  be  on  it  ;  what 
shall  I  answer  ?  Are  there  laymen  on  it  ?  "  Yes.  As  to 
Hope-Scott  he  is  so  full  of  work,  we  could  not  hope  to  get 
him  ;  as  to  Monsell  he  is  Irish  " — and  so  "  our  laymen  are 
W.  G.  Ward,  Allies,  H.  Wilberforce,  Lord  Petre,  Lewis,  and 
Sir  G.  Bowyer,"  &c.  ...  Is  not  the  upshot,  that  I  must 
know  who  constitute  the  Committee,  and  what  they  are 
going  definitely  to  do,  before  I  say  anything  to  the  proposal  ? 

'  As  to  the  plan  itself,  I  cannot  of  course  object  to  it, 
except  on  the  ground  of  its  impracticability,  for  I  have  written 
several  volumes  in  support  of  it,  as  Father  Weld  indirectly 
reminded  me.  Nor  arc  you  likely  to  object  to  it,  for  it  is  not 
so  long  since  you  talked  of  our  setting  up  a  House  of  Higher 
Studies — that  is,  about  four  years  ago,  before  the  Oxford 
projects  came  up.  If  you  thought  it  practicable  //len,  why 
should  you  not  think  so  now?  If  then  you  have  difficulties, 
it  must  be  in  the  particular  scheme  put  forward. 

'  I  have  been  trying  to  recollect  our  Dublin  difficulties,  in 
order  to  profit  by  my  experience.  As  far  as  I  can  recollect, 
they  were  these: — i.  division  among  the  Bishops,  which  is 
not  likely  to  be  the  case  in  England.  2.  the  want  of  power 
to  give  degrees.  3.  the  exclusion  of  laymen  from  influence 
in  the  management,  not  only  of  the  University,  but  even  of 
the  accounts.  For  this  reason,  I  think  even  to  this  day, 
More  O'Ferrall  is  not  a  subscriber  to  it.  Of  these  the  second 
is  the  best  in  argument,  and  as  good  as  any.  It  seems  to 
me  almost  fatal.  If  it  be  said,  "We  will  affiliate  ourselves 
to  London,"  should  not  I  answer,  "Why  not  to  Oxford?" 
which  they  will  be  able  to  do  shortly,  I  believe — dui  they 
7von'L 

'  As  to  the  third  reason,  it  concerns  you.  I  should  add  to 
it  the  prospective  difficulty  of  securing  the  appointment  oUay 
Professors.  .  .  .  Father  Weld  being  sent  to  me  seems  to 
show  that  some  at  least  of  the  Professors  are  to  be  Jesuits. 
I  won't  say  anything  to  offend  them,  but  this  at  least  I  am 
resolved  on,  I  think,  that  I  will  have  nothing  to  do  with  the 
plan,  unless  the  Professors  are  lay.     But  if  so,  and  if  they  are 


THE   DEADLOCK   IN   HIGHER    EDUCATION  (1867)  197 

not  to  be  lay,  had  not  I  better  have  nothing  to  do  with  the 
scheme  from  the  first  ? 

'  I  have  written  as  my  thoughts  came,  that  you  may  have 
something  to  think  about,  and  when  you  have  anything  to 
say,  let  me  hear  from  you. 

'J.  H.  N.' 

When  the  plan  was  made  known  to  Newman  in  detail  by 
Father  Weld,  it  did  not  prove  to  be  in  the  direction  of  the 
kind  of  University  College  in  which  he  was  disposed  to  feel 
any  confidence. 

'  Rednal :  Oct.  lo,  1867. 

'  My  dear  Hope-Scott, — Father  Weld  called  on  me  on 
Monday.  He  was  making  a  round,  apparently,  of  the 
Catholic  Schools.     He  went  from  us  to  Oscott. 

'  His  plan  is  simply  a  Jesuit  one,  as  you  said.  He  pro- 
poses to  transplant  the  philosophy  and  theology  classes  from 
Stonyhurst  and  St.  Beuno's  to  some  place  on  the  banks  of  the 
Thames.  This  will  give  it  sixty  youths  as  a  nucleus.  Then 
he  will  invite  lay  youths  generally  to  join  them,  having 
a  good  array  of  Professors  from  the  two  Colleges  I  have 
named. 

'  He  had  not  a  doubt,  but  he  made  a  question,  whether  it 
would  do  to  put  Jesuit  Novices  and  lay  youths  together ;  but 
he  said  he  thought  it  would  succeed,  fo)'  their  novices  were 
too  well  cared  for  to  be  hurt  by  the  contact  of  lay  youths, — 
though  students  for  the  secular  priesthood  might  in  such  a 
case  suffer.  I  ventured  to  say  that  I  thought  the  difficulty 
would  lie  on  the  other  side,  in  the  prospect  of  getting  parents 
to  send  their  sons  to  a  sort  of  Jesuit  Noviceship  ;  and,  if  they 
did,  of  getting  the  youths  themselves  to  acquiesce  in  it.  I  am 
not  sure  he  entered  into  my  meaning,  for  he  passed  the 
difficulty  over. 

'  When  I  mentioned  it  to  Father  St.  John,  he  reminded 
me  that  good  Father  Bresciani  S.J.  at  Propaganda,  twenty 
years  ago,  detailed  to  us  with  what  great  success  they 
had  pursued  this  plan  in  Piedmont — and  how  pious  the 
young  laymen  were  in  consequence.  I  wonder  whether 
Cavour,  Minghetti,  &c.,  &c.,  were  in  the  number  of  these  lay 
youths. 

'  Then  he  said  he  thought  it  would  be  a  great  thing  to 
indoctrinate  the  lay  youths  in  PJiilosophy^  as  an  antidote  to 
Mill  and  Bain.  I  tried  myself  to  fancy  some  of  our  late 
scholars,  .  .  .  sitting  down  steadily  to  Dmouski,  Libcratorc, 
&c.  &c. 


198  LIFE   OF   CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

'  I  said,  that,  if  I  had  the  opportunity,  I  certainly  would 
do  my  part  in  sending  him  youths,  though  I  did  not  expect 
I  should  be  able  to  do  much.  And  I  sincerely  wish  him  all 
success— for  it  is  fair  he  should  have  his  innings. 

'  It  will  amuse  you  to  hear  that  I  contemplate  publishing 
in  one  volume  my  verses  ;  and  still  more  that  I  think  of 
dedicating  them  to  Badeley. 

'  Yours  affectly., 

J.  H.  N.' 

The  proposed  Catholic  University  found  such  small 
support  that  it  could  not  at  this  time  even  be  brought  into 
existence.  A  few  years  later  it  was  attempted  in  the 
Catholic  University  College  founded  by  Cardinal  Manning 
at  Kensington  :  and  it  proved  a  ludicrous  failure.^  Newman's 
views  received  the  sad  justification  of  experience  both  in 
Ireland  and  in  England — that  to  act  on  ideal  principles 
with  little  or  no  attempt  to  forecast  accurately  what  was 
practicable,  was  to  court  failure. 

In  view  of  this  state  of  things  it  would  not  have  been 
surprising  if  Newman  had  allowed  all  who  applied  to  him 
for  his  opinion  to  know  how  keenly  he  felt  on  the  whole 
subject.  It  is  well  therefore  to  place  here  on  record  the 
chivalrous  loyalty  with  which  he  did  his  best  to  defend  to 
outsiders  the  action  of  Propaganda  and  the  Bishops  which 
he  deplored.  He  wrote  thus  on  the  subject  to  Canon  Jenkins 
of  Lyminge  : 

'The  Oratory,  Birmingham:  Dec.  12,  1867. 

'  My  dear  Mr.  Jenkins,  Thank  you  for  your  kind  letter. 
The  Oxford  Scheme  has  been  at  an  end  since  April  last  when 
I  ceased  to  collect  contributions  for  it. 

'  The  cause  is  very  intelligible.  It  was  most  natural  for 
authorities  at  Rome  to  take  the  advice  of  Oxford  converts 
as  to  whether  youths  should  be  allowed  to  go  to  Oxford. 
Accordingly  the  late  Cardinal  applied  to  various  among 
the  Oxford  men.  Every  one  of  name  who  was  applied 
to,  dissuaded  Propaganda  from  allowing  Catholic  youths 
that  liberty.     Among  these  were  Dr.  Manning,  Mr,  Ward, 

'  .So  unwilHng,  however,  was  Manning  to  own  to  faihire,  that  the  name 
'  Catholic  University  College  '  was  for  years  retained,  when  the  only  correspond- 
ing reality  was  a  group  of  three  or  four  boys  taught  by  that  very  able  Professor 
and  man  of  science,  the  late  Dr.  R.  F.  Clarke,  at  St.  Charles'  College,  Bayswater. 


THE    DEADLOCK   IN    HIGHER    EDUCATION  (1867)  199 

Dr.  Northcote,  Mr.  Coffin,  Mr.  Lewis,  Mr.  Dalgairns  ;  and 
Cambridge  men,  such  as  Mr.  Knox,  and  Mr.  Marshall, 
supported  them.  It  is  not  wonderful,  then,  that,  deferring  to 
the  opinion  of  such  men.  Propaganda  has  resolved  on  putting 
strong  obstacles  in  the  way  of  youths  going  to  the  Univer- 
sities. And  if  it  did  this,  it  could  not  help  hindering 
my  going  to  Oxford— for  many  parents  would  consider 
that  the  presence  of  any  Priest  who  knew  Oxford  well,  was 
a  pledge  that  their  children  would  be  protected  against  the 
scepticism  and  infidelity  which  too  notoriously  prevail  there 
just  now. 

'  Yours  very  sincerely, 

J.  H.  Newman.' 


CHAPTER   XXVII 

PAPAL     INFALLIBILITY 

(1 867-1 868) 

The  abandonment  of  the  Oxford  scheme  was,  in  Newman's 
eyes,  the  final  relinquishment  of  all  hope  of  further  active 
work  before  his  death.  He  was  sixty-six  years  old  ;  and 
though  his  health  was  good,  this  was  not  an  age  for  vigorous 
initiation.  He  was  deeply  pained  at  the  action  of  the 
authorities  in  the  Oxford  matter.  The  powerful  party 
headed  by  Manning  had  prevailed,  without  any  opportunity 
being  given  to  those  who  thought  differently  from  them 
for  stating  their  views.  Cardinal  Reisach  had  reported  to 
Rome  on  the  subject  without  even  hearing  Newman's  case. 
Cardinal  Barnabo  was  responsible  for  the  '  secret  instruction  ' 
and  for  the  slur  cast  on  the  Oratory  School  by  exceptional 
treatment.  An  entry  in  the  journal  on  October  30,  1867, 
recalls  the  famous  letter  of  St.  Thomas  a  Becket  to  Cardinal 
Albert,  in  which  he  protests  against  the  action  of  the  Roman 
courts.  To  this  protest  Newman  expressly  refers  in  one  of 
his  letters.  And,  like  St.  Thomas,  he  appeals  for  the  vindi- 
cation of  his  own  loyalty  to  the  Church  from  the  judgment 
of  ecclesiastical  superiors  to  that  of  God.' 

'  What  I  have  written  in  the  foregoing  pages  has  been 
written  as  a  sort  of  relief  to  my  mind  ;  if  that  were  the  only 
reason  for  writing,  I  should  not  write  now,  for  I  have  no 
trouble  within  me  to  be  relieved  of.  I  will  put  myself  under 
the  image  of  the  Patriarch  Job,  without  intending  to  liken 
myself  to  him.  He  first  strenuously  resisted  the  charges  of 
his  friends,  then  he  made  a  long  protest  of  his  innocence,  and 
then  we  read  :  "  The   words  of  Job  are  ended."     Mine  are 

'  Scripta  Rer.  Francic.  tom.  xvi.  pp.  416,  417.  Cardinal  Cullen's  favourable 
report  to  the  Pope  concerning  the  orthodoxy  of  Newman's  writings  was  probably  not 
made  known  to  him  until  after  this  entry  had  been  written. 


PAPAL    INFALLIBILITY    (1S67-1868)  201 

ended  too — I  have  said  to  Cardinal  Barnabo :  "  Viderit 
Deus."  I  have  lodged  my  cause  with  Him — and,  while  I 
hope  ever  by  His  grace  to  be  obedient,  I  have  now  as  little 
desire  as  I  have  hope  to  gain  the  praise  of  such  as  him  in 
anything  I  shall  do  henceforth.  A,  B.  and  others  have  been 
too  much  for  me.  They  have  too  deeply  impressed  the 
minds  of  authorities  at  Rome  against  me  to  let  the  truth 
about  me  have  fair  play  while  I  live  ;  and  when  one  ceases 
to  hope,  one  ceases  to  fear.  They  have  done  their  worst — 
and,  as  Almighty  God  in  1864  cleared  up  my  conduct  in  the 
sight  of  Protestants  at  the  end  of  twenty  years,  so  as  regards 
my  Catholic  course,  at  length,  after  I  am  gone  hence,  "  Deus 
viderit ! " 

'  I  did  not  use  the  words  lightly,  though  they  seem  to 
have  rested  most  unfavourably  on  his  mind — nor  do  I  dream 
of  retracting  them.  For  many  years  I  tried  to  approve 
myself  to  such  as  him,  but  it  is  now  more  than  ten  years 
that,  from  failing  to  do  so,  I  have  been  gradually  weaned 
from  any  such  expectation  or  longing.  I  have  recorded  the 
change  in  the  words  of  my  Dublin  Sermon  of  November  23rd, 
1856,  though  covertly  and  only  to  my  own  consciousness. 
"  There  are  those  who  .  .  .  think  we  mean  to  spend  our 
devotion  upon  a  human  cause,  and  that  we  toil  for  an  object 
of  human  ambition.  They  think  that  we  should  acknowledge, 
if  cross-examined,  that  our  ultimate  purpose  was  the  success 
of  persons  and  parties,  to  whom  we  are  bound  in  honour,  or 
in  interest,  or  in  gratitude  ;  and  that,  &c.  .  .  .  They  fancy, 
as  the  largest  concession  of  their  liberality,  that  we  are 
working  from  the  desire,  generous  but  still  human,  of  the 
praise  of  earthly  superiors,  and  that,  after  all,  we  are  living  on 
the  breath,  and  basking  in  the  smile,  of  man,"  &c.,  &c. 

'  And  now,  alas,  I  fear  that  in  one  sense  the  iron  has 
entered  into  my  soul.  I  mean  that  confidence  in  any 
superiors  whatever  never  can  blossom  again  within  me.  I 
never  shall  feel  easy  with  them.  I  shall,  I  feel,  always  think 
they  will  be  taking  some  advantage  of  me, — that  at  length 
their  way  will  lie  across  mine,  and  that  my  efforts  will  be 
displeasing  to  them.  I  shall  ever  be  suspicious  that  they  or 
theirs  have  secret  unkind  thoughts  of  me,  and  that  they  deal 
with  me  with  some  arriere  pcnsee.  And,  as  it  is  my 
happiness  so  to  be  placed  as  not  to  have  much  intercourse 
with  them,  therefore,  while  I  hope  ever  loyally  to  fulfil  their 
orders,  it  is  my  highest  gain  and  most  earnest  request  to 
them,  that  they  would  let  mc  alone — and,  since  I  do  not 
want  to  initiate  any  new  plan  of  any  kind,  that,  if  they  can, 


202  LIFE    OF   CARDINAL   NEWALVN 

they  would  keep  their  hands  off  me.  Whether  or  not  they 
will  consent  to  this  is  more  than  I  can  say,  for  they  seem  to 
wish  to  ostracise  me.  But,  in  saying  this,  I  repeat  what  I 
said  when  I  began  to  write,  I  am  now  in  a  state  of  quiescence, 
and  fear  as  little  as  1  hope.  And  I  do  not  expect  this 
state  of  mind  to  be  reversed.  God  forbid  I  should  liken 
them  to  the  "Scribes  and  Tharisees" — but  still  I  obey 
them,  as  Scribes  and  Pharisees  were  to  be  obeyed,  as  God's 
representatives,  not  from  devotion  to  them. 

'  Nor  does  anything  that  has  happened  to  me  interfere 
with,  rather  these  external  matters  have  all  wonderfully 
promoted,  my  inward  happiness.  I  never  was  in  such  simply 
happy  circumstances  as  now,  and  I  do  not  know  how  I  can 
fancy  I  shall  continue  without  some  or  other  real  cross.  I  am 
my  own  master, — I  have  my  time  my  own — I  am  surrounded 
with  comforts  and  conveniences — I  am  in  easy  circumstances, 
1  have  no  cares,  I  have  good  health — I  have  no  pain  of  mind 
or  bod}-.  I  enjoy  life  only  too  well.  The  weight  of  years 
falls  on  me  as  snow,  gently  though  surely,  but  I  do  not  feel  it 
yet.  I  am  surrounded  with  dear  friends — my  reputation  has 
been  cleared  by  the  "  Apologia."  What  can  I  want  but 
greater  gratitude  and  love  towards  the  Giver  of  all  these  good 
things?  There  is  no  state  of  life  I  prefer  to  my  own — 
I  would  not  change  my  position  for  that  of  anyone  I  know — 
I  am  simply  content — there  is  nothing  I  desire — I  should  be 
puzzled  to  know  what  to  ask,  if  I  were  free  to  ask.  I  should 
say  perhaps  that  I  wished  the  financial  matters  of  the  Oratory 
and  School  to  be  in  a  better  state — but  for  myself  I  am  as 
covered  with  blessings  and  as  full  of  God's  gifts,  as  is  conceiv- 
able. And  I  have  nothing  to  ask  for  but  pardon  and  grace, 
and  a  happy  death.' 

Things  were,  as  this  last  paragraph  intimates,  far  better 
with  him  than  in  the  sad  years  before  the  '  Apologia.'  His 
hold  on  the  minds  of  men  was  re-established.  Yet  the 
next  entry  shows  some  misgiving  lest  he  may  not  be 
turning  his  renewed  influence  to  good  account.  But  as 
to  taking  further  part  in  the  controversies  of  the  day  he 
decided  to  let  well  alone. 

To  go  too  fast  might  irritate  people.  To  pause  awhile, 
on  the  contrary,  gave  time  for  principles  he  had  laid  down  in 
his  writings  to  take  deeper  hold  on  men's  minds.  To  keep 
his  name  and  influence  secure  from  the  onslaughts  incidental 
to  controversy  might  be  the  best  means  of  enabling  others, 


PAPAL   INFALLIBILITY   (1867-1868)  203 

when  the  suitable  time  should  come,  to  use  that  name  in  the 
task  of  applying  and  emphasising  his  views. 
On  January  29,  1868,  he  writes  thus  : 

'  Our  Lord  has  said :  "  Vae  cum  benedixerint  vobis 
homines  "  (Luc.  vi.  26),  koXcos  v/ids  SiTrcoai,  and  I  seem  to  be 
in  this  danger  as  regards  the  Protestant  world.  A  reaction 
has  set  in,  nor  does  one  know  what  will  be  its  limits.  Just 
now,  my  Verses,  which  I  have  collected  and  published,  have 
both  stimulated  and  manifested  it.  I  feel  as  if  a  Nemesis 
would  come,  if  I  am  not  careful  and  am  reminded  of  the  ring 
of  Polycrates.  Friends  and  well-wishers  out  of  kindness  are 
writing  favourable  reviews  of  my  small  book,  and  1  am 
obliged  to  read  out  of  gratitude  what  they  say  of  me  so 
generously.  I  have  said :  "  the  Protestant  world  " — but  it  ex- 
tends to  the  great  mass  of  (English  speaking)  Catholics  also  ; 
till  the  "Apologia"  I  was  thought  "  passe "  and  forgotten. 
The  controversy  which  occasioned  it,  and  then  the  Oxford 
matter  and  the  "  Dream  of  Gerontius  "  have  brought  me  out, 
and  now  I  should  be  hard  indeed  to  please,  and  very  un- 
grateful to  them,  and  to  God,  if  I  did  not  duly  appreciate 
this  thought  of  me. 

'  Then  comes  the  question  :  what  use  can  I  make  of  these 
fresh  mercies  ?  Not  from  any  supernatural  principle,  but 
from  mere  natural  temper,  I  keep  saying,  what  is  the  good  of 
all  this  ?  what  comes  of  it  ?  "  Vanitas  Vanitatum,"  if  it  is  but 
empty  praise.  What  use  can  I  make  of  it  ?  for  what  is  it 
given  me  ?  And  then,  too,  on  the  other  hand,  when  I  am  well 
thought  of,  and  the  world  is  in  good  humour  with  me,  I  am 
led  to  say  to  myself:  "Let  well  alone;  do  not  hazard  by 
any  fresh  act  the  loss  of  that,  which  you  have  been  so  long 
without,  and  found  such  difficulty  in  getting.  Enjoy  the 
"  otium  cum  dignitatc." 

'  "  Otium  cum  dignitate  "  reminds  me  of  "  Otium  cum  in- 
dignitate  "  ;  yes,  as  far  as  Propaganda  goes,  and  that  English 
party  of  which  Archbishop  Manning  and  Ward  are  the 
support,  I  have  been  dismissed  not  simply  as"  inglorious,"  but 
to  "  dishonoured  ease."  And  this  would  certainly  serve  as  the 
ring  of  Polycrates,  did  I  feel  it — but  I  don't  feel  it.  And,  as 
1  had  said  on  some  former  page,  I  should  be  so  out  of  my 
element  if  1  were  without  that  cold  shade  on  the  side  of 
ecclesiastical  authority,  in  which  I  have  dwelt  nearly  all  my 
life,  m)'  eyes  would  be  .so  dazed,  and  my  limbs  so  relaxed, 
were  I  brought  out  to  bask  in  the  full  sun  of  ecclesiastical 
favour,  that  I  should  not  know  how  to  act  and  should  make 
a  fool  of  myself 


204  LIFE   OF   CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

*  As  my  Lord  had  some  purpose  in  letting  me  be  so  long 
forgotten  and  calumniated,  as  He  has  had  some  purpose  in 
leaving  me,  as  regards  ecclesiastical  authorities,  under  that 
cloud  which  He  has  lately  removed  from  me  as  regards 
Catholics  and  Protestants  generally,  so  now  He  has  some 
purpose  in  that  late  removal — if  I  could  know  what  it  is. 
Perhaps  He  wishes  me  to  do  nothing  new,  but  He  is  creating 
an  opportunity  for  what  I  have  already  written  to  work. 
Perhaps  my  duty  is,  what  is  only  too  pleasant,  to  sit  still,  do 
nothing,  and  enjoy  myself  Perhaps  my  name  is  to  be  turned 
to  account  as  a  sanction  and  outset  by  which  others,  who 
agree  with  me  in  opinion,  should  write  and  publish  instead 
of  me,  and  thus  begin  the  transmission  of  views  in  religious 
and  intellectual  matters  congenial  with  my  own,  to  the 
generation  after  me.' 

Newman  gave  himself  for  a  time  to  slighter  tasks,  which 
did  not  need  great  labour.  He  coached  the  Edgbaston  boys 
for  Terence's  '  Phormio,'  which  he  had  arranged  for  them  in 
1865,  and  which  was  to  be  performed  again  in  May  1868.  He 
arranged  (as  we  have  seen)  to  publish  a  complete  edition  of  his 
verses,  which  he  dedicated  to  Edward  Badeley.  The  prepara- 
tion of  this  volume  was  congenial  labour.  He  once  described 
his  feeling  about  verse-making  in  a  letter  to  R.  H.  Hutton. 

'  If  I  had  my  way,'  he  wrote,  '  I  should  give  myself  up 
to  verse-making ;  it  is  nearly  the  only  kind  of  composition 
which  is  not  a  trouble  to  me,  but  I  have  never  had  time.  As 
to  my  prose  volumes,  I  have  scarcely  written  any  one  without 
an  external  stimulus  ;  their  composition  has  been  to  me,  in 
point  of  pain,  a  mental  childbearing,  and  I  have  been 
accustomed  to  say  to  myself:  "In  sorrow  shalt  thou  bring 
forth  children." 

'  But  to  return  to  the  verses,  I  am  surprised  at  the  high 
terms  in  which  you  speak  of  them.  I  wrote  those  in  the  Lyra 
just  before  the  commencement  of  the  Oxford  Movement,  while 
travelling,  and  during  convalescence  after  fever,  and  while 
crossing  the  Mediterranean  home[wards].  I  have  never  had 
practice  enough  to  have  words  and  metres  at  my  command. 
And  besides,  at  the  time  I  had  a  theory,  one  of  the  extreme 
theories  of  the  incipient  Movement,  that  it  was  not  right 
"  agere  poetam  "  but  merely  "  ecclesiasticum  agere  "  ;  that 
the  one  thing  called  for  was  to  bring  out  an  idea ;  that  the 
harsher  the  better,  like  weaving  sackcloth,  if  only  it  would 
serve  as  an  evidence  that  I  was  not  making  an  a-'ycovta^ia.' 


PAPAL   INFALLIBILITY   (1867-1868)  205 

The  volume  appeared  in  January,  and  in  its  pages  the 
'  Dream  of  Gerontius '  took  its  place  for  the  first  time 
among  his  collected  poems.  The  book  was  received  with  a 
chorus  of  praise,  Mr.  Hutton  leading  the  way  in  the 
Spectator.  Newman  was  touched  and  cheered  at  its 
favourable  reception.  He  writes  on  February  6  to  Father 
Coleridge,  who  had  reviewed  the  volume  in  the  Month  : 

' .  .  .  I  have  not  written  to  you  since  the  critique  of  my 
Verses  in  the  MontJi.  I  think  I  must  find  some  ring  of 
Polycrates  to  make  a  sacrifice  to  fortune,  else,  some  Nemesis 
will  come  on  me.  I  am  bound  to  read  the  various  critiques 
on  me,  for  they  are  written  by  kind  persons,  who  wish  to  do 
a  thing  pleasing  to  me,  and  whom  I  should  be  very  ungrate- 
ful not  to  respond  to,  and  they  do  please  me — but  I  have 
been  so  little  used  to  praise  in  my  life,  that  I  feel  like  the 
good  woman  in  the  song,  "  O,  cried  the  little  woman,  sure  it 
is  not  I."  ' 

A  peaceful  spring  and  summer  followed  :  '  four  months,' 
he  notes  in  his  diary,  '  of  beautiful  weather  ' ;  and  in  June  he 
resolved  to  execute  a  task  of  love  and  pain  which  he  had 
long  had  in  mind — to  pay  a  farewell  visit  to  Littlemorc. 
The  visit  is  chronicled  in  a  letter  to  Henry  Wilberforce,  who 
had  written  in  the  same  month  to  urge  Newman  to  pay  him 
a  visit  at  Farnham  : 

'  The  Oratory,  Birmingham  :  June  18/68. 

'  Thank  you  for  your  affectionate  letter  and  invitation — 
but  I  can't  accept  it.  It  is  not  much  more  than  a  week  since 
I  refused  one  from  my  sister.  I  have  real  duties  here  which 
make  it  difficult  to  get  away  ;  I  am  on  a  strict  regime,  w^hich 
I  don't  like  to  omit  for  a  day — and  I  have  an  old  man's 
reluctance  to  move.  I  have  promised  R.  \V.  Church  a  visit 
for  several  years,  and  it  must  be  my  first. 

'  I  am  gradually  knocking  off  some  purposes  of  the  kind. 
When  your  letter  came,  I  was  at  Littlemore :  I  had  always 
hoped  to  see  it  once  before  I  died.  Ambrose  and  I  went  by 
the  7  a.m.  train  to  Abingdon,  then  across  to  Littlemore — 
then  direct  from  Littlemore  by  rail  to  Birmingham  where  we 
arrived  by  7 — ^just  12  hours.  .  .  .  Littlemore  is  now  green. 

'  Crawley's  cottage  and  garden  (upon  my  10  acres  which 
I  sold  him)  are  beautiful.  The  Church  too  is  now  what 
they  call  a  gem.  And  the  parsonage  is  very  pretty.  I 
.saw  various  of  my  people,  now  getting  on  in  life.      It  was  40 


2o6  LIFE   OF  CARDINAL  NEWMAN 

years  the  beginning  of  this  year  since  I  became  Vicar.  Alas, 
their  memory  of  me  was  in  some  cases  stronger  than  my 
memory  of  them. 

'  They  have  a  great  affection  for  my  mother  and  sisters  — 
tho'  it  is  32  years  since  they  went  away.  There  is  a  large 
Lunatic  Asylum— separated,  however  from  the  Village  by  the 
railroad — so  it  is  no  annoyance — rather  it  adds  green  to  the 
place — nor  is  the  railroad  an  annoyance,  for  it  is  a  cutting. 
It  is  22  years  since  I  was  there.  I  left  February  22 — 1846. 
I  do  not  expect  ever  to  see  it  again — nor  do  I  wish  it.' 

Little  is  said  in  this  letter  of  the  feelings  which  overcame 
him  at  the  sight  of  his  old  home  with  its  sacred  memories. 
Fortunately  there  are  extant  the  written  impressions  of  one 
who  accidentally  met  him  there,  which  help  to  fill  in  the 
picture.     I  owe  them  to  the  kindness  of  Canon  Irvine. 

*  I  was  passing  by  the  Church  at  Littlemore  when  I 
observed  a  man  very  poorly  dressed  leaning  over  the  lych 
gate  crying.  He  was  to  all  appearance  in  great  trouble. 
He  was  dressed  in  an  old  gray  coat  with  the  collar  turned  up 
and  his  hat  pulled  down  over  his  face  as  if  he  wished  to  hide 
his  features.  As  he  turned  towards  me  I  thought  it  was  a  face 
I  had  seen  before.  The  thought  instantly  flashed  through 
my  mind  it  was  Dr.  Newman.  I  had  never  seen  him,  but 
I  remember  Mr.  Crawley  had  got  a  photo  of  Dr.  Newman. 
I  went  and  told  Mr.  Crawley  I  thought  Dr.  Newman 
was  in  the  village,  but  he  said  I  must  be  mistaken,  it  could 
not  be.  I  asked  him  to  let  me  see  the  photo,  which  he 
did.  I  then  told  him  I  felt  sure  it  was  [he].  Mr.  Crawley 
wished  me  to  have  another  look  at  him.  I  went  and  met  him 
in  the  churchyard.  He  was  walking  with  Mr.  St.  John.  I 
made  bold  to  ask  him  if  he  was  not  an  old  friend  of 
Mr.  Crawley's,  because  if  he  was  I  felt  sure  Mr,  Crawley  would 
be  very  pleased  to  see  him  ;  as  he  was  a  great  invalid  and 
not  able  to  get  out  himself,  would  he  please  to  go  and  see 
Mr.  Crawley.  He  instantly  burst  out  crying  and  said,  "  Oh 
no,  oh  no !  "  Mr.  St.  John  begged  him  to  go,  but  he  said,  "  I 
cannot."  Mr.  St.  John  asked  him  then  to  send  his  name,  but 
he  said  "  Oh  no  I  "  At  last  Mr.  St.  John  said,  "  You  may  tell 
Mr.  Crawley  Dr.  Newman  is  here."  I  did  so,  and  Mr,  Crawley 
sent  his  compliments,  begged  him  to  come  and  see  him, 
which  he  did  and  had  a  long  chat  with  him.  After  that  he 
went  and  saw  several  of  the  old  people  in  the  village.' 

Newman  returned  to  the  Oratory  that  night,  and  resumed 
the  little  tasks  of  daily  life.     Old  friends  were  now  passing 


PAPAL   INFALLIBILITY   (1867-1868)  207 

away,  however,  and  he  had  it  in  his  mind  to  pay  some  visits 
which  might,  he  felt,  prove  visits  of  farewell  to  those  who 
were  left.  In  reply  to  a  letter  from  Henry  Wilberforce  in 
which  he  announced  the  death  of  an  old  Oxford  friend,  he 
wrote  thus  on  July  7  : 

'  It  rejoices  me  to  think  that  you  are  at  last  in  harbour  in 
a  quiet  home  and  with  a  pleasant  garden.  My  time  is  fully 
occupied  here  even  with  daily  matters.  Lately  I  have  had 
all  the  Sacristy  matters  on  my  hands — have  had  to  analy.se 
all  the  details  of  the  work — apportion  it  among  four  or  five 
helps,  and  write  out  and  post  up  the  duties  of  each.  The 
School  always  takes  ujd  time — and  now  the  Orphanage  is 
becoming  in  size  a  second  school.  And,  during  the  vacation 
now  coming  on  us,  I  must  be  at  home,  for  everyone  else  is 
going  away.  When  I  go  to  R.  VV.  Church,  (I  say"  R.  W."  for 
did  I  say  to  "  Church "  it  would  be  like  Birnam  Wood 
going  to  Dunsinanc)  I  hope  to  take  you  in  my  way,  if  you 
will  receive  me. 

'  When  I  saw  A.  B.'s  death  in  the  paper  I  wrote  to  Rogers 
for  some  intelligence  about  it.  He  wrote  to  some  person 
near  A.  B.  From  both  their  letters  I  could  see  that  they 
had  no  very  near  sympathy  with  his  fortunes — and  I  really 
think  I  lamented  him  more  than  any  one  in  his  imme- 
diate neighbourhood.  .  .  .  Alas,  alas—perhaps  it  is  that  my 
sympathy  is  in  u)y  being  old  like  him,  and  in  going  the  way 
he  has  gone.  "  Omnes  eodem  cogimur,"  and  one's  old  friends 
arc  falling  on  every  side.' 

A  little  later  in  the  same  year  another  old  friend,  Sir 
John  Harding,  passed  away  after  a  lingering  illness. 

'  I  don't  suppose  I  ought  to  grieve,'  Newman  wrote  to 
their  common  friend,  William  Froude,  *  but  I  do  grieve. 
Strange  to  say  either  last  night  or  this  morning  I  was 
thinking  of  him  in  church — I  think  I  said  a  "  Hail  Mary" 
for  him. 

'  I  know  it  must  sadden  you,  even  though  it  be  a  relief, 
and  I  can't  help  sending  you  a  line  to  say  how  I  sympathise 
with  you. 

'  I  recollect  thinking  in  chapel,  "  He  was  nearly  the  only 
person  who  was  kind  to  me  on  my  conversion  " — (you  were 
another).  I  met  him  in  the  street  in  London  soon  after  it. 
He  stopped  me,  shook  hands  with  mc,  and  said  to  me  some 
very  friendly  and  comforting  words.  It  is  the  last  time  I 
saw  him.' 


2o8  LIFE   OF   CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

Still,  in  spite  of  the  sad  thoughts  which  the  death  of  his 
contemporaries  and  his  own  advancing  years  brought,  his 
own  powers  were  quite  unimpaired,  and  his  interest  in  the 
subjects  which  had  so  long  absorbed  his  mind  was  as  keen 
as  ever.  He  was  conscious  that  he  still  had  it  in  him  to 
help  to  solve  the  great  problem  of  the  hour  (as  he  viewed 
it) — to  promote  the  influence  of  Catholic  Christianity  on 
modern  civilisation.  And  he  felt  deeply  that  the  jealous 
criticisms  of  his  theological  opponents  tied  his  hands. 

*  Are  they  not  doing  the  Holy  See  a  grave  disservice,'  he 
wrote  in  a  memorandum  dated  August  1867,  '  who  will  not 
let  a  zealous  man  defend  it  in  his  own  way,  but  insist  on  his 
doing  it  in  their  way  or  not  at  all — or  rather  only  at  the  price 
of  being  considered  heterodox  or  disaffected  if  his  opinions  do 
not  run  in  a  groove  ? ' 

The  same  thought  often  reappears  in  his  letters  at  this 
time  ;  but  he  submitted  to  these  inevitable  limitations,  and 
he  confined  himself  to  work  which  could,  he  believed,  be 
done  without  incurring  the  risk  of  censure.  In  the  summer 
of  1866,  while  in  Switzerland,  he  had  begun  systematic  notes 
for  the  work  on  Faith  and  Reason  which  he  had  for  years 
been  contemplating.  Henceforward  he  made  this  his  chief 
occupation. 

It  did  not  directly  touch  any  burning  controversy.  And 
he  was  satisfied  that  if  he  was  allowed  time  and  space  he 
could  develop  his  view  without  running  counter  to  the  best 
scholastic  thought  on  the  subject ;  although  a  brief  treat- 
ment must  of  necessity  be  open  to  misrepresentation.  Of 
the  work  which  resulted,  the  '  Essay  in  Aid  of  a  Grammar  of 
Assent,'  which  he  accounted  one  of  the  most  important  of 
his  life,  we  must  speak  in  a  separate  chapter. 

His  work,  however,  was  destined  not  to  go  forward  without 
interruptions,  and  serious  ones.  The  times  were  stirring. 
The  destruction  of  the  civil  princedom  which  the  Papacy 
had  held  in  one  form  or  another  for  a  thousand  years  was 
going  forward  with  ominous  thoroughness.  And  it  was 
a  symbol  of  the  final  dethronement  of  Christian  civilisation, 
so  long  imminent,  but  now  on  the  eve  of  accomplishment. 
The  French  Revolution  had  nearly  done  the  work.  But  there 
had  been  since  then  the  kind    of  rally   in  a  hopeless  case 


PAPAL   INFALLIBILITY   (1867-1868)  209 

which  at  times  deceives  the  watchers  by  a  bed  of  sickness. 
The  Romantic  Movement,  the  Catholic  Revival  in  France 
and  Germany,  associated  with  so  many  great  names,  had 
given  Rome  new  hope.  Then,  again,  the  political  world  had 
shown  a  sense  of  the  value  of  the  Papacy  as  a  principle  of 
order — an  antidote  to  constant  revolutionary  movements, 
eruptions  due  to  the  volcanic  element  the  French  Revolu- 
tion had  left  behind  it.  Not  only  did  the  Powers  restore  the 
Pontifical  dominions  in  18 14,  but  they  did  so  again  in  1849. 
Now,  however,  such  reactions  had  ceased.  The  Papal  sove- 
reignty was  clearly  doomed.  Napoleon  III.,  from  whose 
support  of  the  Church  so  much  had  once  been  hoped,  was 
no  longer  to  be  relied  on.  The  Powers  were,  at  the  present 
crisis,  with  the  Sardinians,  or,  at  best,  too  indifferent  to  inter- 
fere again,  as  in  1849,  on  the  Pope's  behalf  Pius  IX.,  the 
reforming  Pope  of  1846,  became  the  bitter  enemy  of  the 
modern  movement  which  meant  his  overthrow.  He  con- 
tinued year  after  year  to  protest  indignantly  against  the 
apostasy  of  Christendom  and  to  denounce  the  false  prin- 
ciples of  modern  *  Liberalism.'  The  militant  party  repre- 
sented in  P^rance  by  M.  Louis  Veuillot,  the  editor  of  the 
Univers,  claimed  that  their  view  had  been  justified.  They  had 
been  right  in  proclaiming  war  on  '  Liberalism.'  Montalem- 
bert  and  Lacordaire  had  proved  utterly  wrong  in  believing 
that  the  Church  could  find  a  modus  vivendi  with  it. 

The  policy  of  this  determined  group  of  neo-Ultramontancs 
became  more  and  more  one  of  extreme  centralisation.  It  had 
been  opposed  from  the  first  by  leading  French  Bishops.  In 
its  first  phase,  when  the  editor  of  the  Univers  had  been 
the  henchman  of  Napoleon  III,,  Archbishop  Sibour  of  Paris 
had  written  to  Montalembert  a  weighty  letter  on  the  grave 
dangers  attending  the  line  that  journal  was  advocating.  It 
was  not  Ultramontanism  in  its  time-honoured  sense,  but  an 
ecclcsiastico-political  movement  practically  abrogating  the 
normal  constitution  of  Church  and  State  alike. 

'  When  you  formerly,  like  ourselves,  M.  le  Comte,'  wrote 
the  Archbishop,  '  made  loud  professions  of  Ultramontanism 
you  did  not  understand  things  thus.  We  defended  the  in- 
dependence of  the  spiritual  power  against  the  pretensions  and 
encroachments  of  the  temporal  power,  but  we  respected  the 
VOL.  II.  P 


210  TJFE   OF  CARDINAL  NEWMAN 

constitution  of  the  State  and  the  constitution  of  the  Church. 
We  did  not  do  away  with  all  intermediate  power,  all 
hierarchy,  all  reasonable  discussion,  all  legitimate  resistance, 
all  individuality,  all  spontaneity.  The  Pope  and  the  Emperor 
were  not  the  one  the  whole  Church  and  the  other  the  whole 
State.  Doubtless  there  are  times  when  the  Pope  may  set 
himself  above  all  the  rules  which  are  only  for  ordinary  times, 
and  when  his  power  is  as  extensive  as  the  necessities  of  the 
Church.  1  he  old  Ultramontanes  kept  this  in  mind,  but  they 
did  not  make  of  the  exception  a  rule.  The  new  Ultramon- 
tanes have  pushed  everything  to  extremes,  and  have  abounded 
in  hostile  arguments  against  all  liberties — those  of  the  State 
as  well  as  those  of  the  Church.  If  such  systems  were  not 
calculated  to  compromise  the  most  serious  religious  interests 
at  the  present  time,  and  especially  at  a  future  day,  one  might 
be  content  with  despising  them  ;  but  when  one  has  a  presenti- 
ment of  the  evils  they  are  preparing  for  us,  it  is  difficult  to 
be  silent  and  resigned.  You  have,  therefore,  done  well,  M.  le 
C'omte,  to  stigmatise  them.' 

These  were  the  words  of  a  wise  prelate  written  in  1853. 
And  now  the  misfortunes  of  the  I'apacy  and  the  protests  of 
Pius  IX.  gave  a  fresh  impetus  to  the  neo-Ultramontane 
campaign.  M.  Veuillot  and  his  friends  urged  that  the 
Infallibility  of  the  Pontiff  should  be  made  an  article  of  faith. 
They  seemed  to  conceive  of  such  a  definition  as  a  protest 
against  an  apostate  world,  and  a  crown  of  honour  for  the 
persecuted  Pontiff.  This  way  of  looking  at  things  w^as  to 
be  found  in  Plngland  also,  and  in  Germany.  Archbishop 
Manning  told  the  present  writer  that  he  and  the  Bishop 
of  Ratisbon,  after  assisting  at  the  Pontifical  Vespers  in 
St.  Peter's  Basilica  on  the  P'east  of  SS.  Peter  and  Paul  in  1867, 
as  an  act  of  devotion  jointly  made  a  vow  that  they  would 
not  rest  until  they  had  secured  the  great  definition  which 
was  to  give  new  glory  to  Christ's  outraged  Vicar.  And  very 
many  shared  such  sentiments. 

In  that  very  year  the  Vatican  Council  was  finally  deter- 
mined on.  Pius  IX.  had  first  spoken  of  it  shortly  after  the 
appearance  of  the  Syllabus  of  1864.  It  was  designed  to 
discuss  and  meet  the  evils  of  an  age  of  apostasy.  Its  ap- 
proach was  formally  announced  on  June  26,  1867,  to  the 
Bishops  who  were  keeping  in  Rome  the  eighteenth  centenary 
of  St.  Peter's  martyrdom.    The  announcement  was  a  signal  for 


TAPAL   INFALLIBILITY    (1867-186S)  211 

renewed  outbursts  of  militant  loyalty.  The  years  1867,  1868, 
and  1869  were  years  of  great  controversial  stress.  Such 
men  as  Mgr.  Darboy,  who  had  succeeded  Mgr.  Sibour  as 
Archbishop  of  Paris,  and  Mgr.  Dupanloup,  Bishop  of  Orleans, 
were  indignant  at  M.  Veuillot's  unceasing  attacks  on  his 
fellow-Catholics,  whom  he  accused  of  '  Liberalism,'  and  on 
members  of  the  Episcopate.  They  were  conscious  of  being 
as  loyally  devoted  to  the  Holy  See  as  M.  Veuillot  himself. 
Veuillot  claimed  the  sanction  of  Pius  IX.  for  his  attitude. 
But  the  Bishops  denied  his  contention.  He  had  made  the 
same  claim  in  1863  for  his  denunciations  of  Montalem- 
bert's  Malines  address,  and  Montalcmbert's  great  friend 
Mr.  Monsell  had  found  it  to  be  without  foundation. 
Mr.  Monsell  had  asked  Pius  IX.  himself  if  the  address  was 
condemned,  and  the  Pope  with  characteristic  bo7ihoniie  had 
pointed  to  a  copy  of  the  address  on  his  table,  and  said  as 
he  took  his  pinch  of  snuff,  '  I  have  not  yet  read  it,  so  it 
cannot  be  condemned.  For  I  am  the  captain  of  the  ship.'  ^ 
Dupanloup  accused  Louis  Veuillot  of  representing  his  own 
narrow  and  untheological  views  on  the  Papal  claims  and  his 
own  hostility  to  modern  science  and  all  forms  of  the  modern 
liberties  as  necessary  conditions  of  orthodoxy.  He  published 
an  Avertissement  addressed  to  Veuillot  himself,  in  which 
pain  and  indignation  speak  audibly.  '  The  moment  has 
come,'  he  wrote,  '  to  defend  ourselves  against  you.  I  raise 
then,  in  my  turn,  my  voice  ...  I  charge  you  with  usurpa- 
tions on  the  lipiscopatc,  with  perpetual  intrusion  in  the  most 
delicate  matters,  I  charge  you  above  all  with  your  excesses 
in  doctrine,  your  deplorable  taste  for  irritating  questions, 
and  for  violent  and  dangerous  solutions.  I  charge  you  with 
accusing,  insulting,  and  calumniating  your  brethren  in  the 
Faith.  None  have  merited  more  than  you  that  severe  word 
of  the  Sacred  Book.s, — "  Accusator  fratrum."  Above  all  I 
reproach  you  with  making  the  Church  participate  in  your 
violences,  by  giving  as  its  doctrines,  with  rare  audacity  i^par 
nne  rare  audace),  your  most  personal  ideas.' 

M.  Veuillot,  who  was  in  no  sense  a  trained  theologian, 
had  used  language  in  the  Univers  which  must  be  recalled,  as 
it    is   otherwise  quite    impossible    to  understand    either  the 

'  This  anecdote  was  related  to  the  present  writer  by  Mr.  Monsell  himself. 


212  LIFE   OF   CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

strenuous  opposition  of  men  like  Archbishop  Sibour,  Mont- 
alembert,  Newman,  and  Dupanloup,  or  the  extraordinary 
exaggerations  still  current  among  men  of  the  world  as  to 
the  meaning  of  the  dogma  of  Infallibility.  In  defiance  of 
the  common-place  of  theology  that  the  protection  of  the 
Pope  from  error  in  formal  definitions  is  not  '  Inspiration,' 
but  only  Providential  '  assistance,'  and  that  the  ordinary 
means  used  by  the  Pope  in  forming  his  judgments  are, 
correlatively,  the  regular  scientific  processes  of  theology 
and  consultation  with  the  Episcopate,  whether  in  Council  or 
otherwise,  he  boldly  used  the  following  words  in  a  pam- 
phlet called  'L'illusion  Liberale':  'We  all  know  certainly 
only  one  thing,  that  is  that  no  man  knows  anything  ex- 
cept the  Man  with  whom  God  is  for  ever,  the  Man  who 
carries  the  thought  of  God.  We  must  .  .  .  unswervingly 
follow  his  inspired  directions '  {ses  directions  inspire'es). 
Pursuing  this  same  line  the  Univers  laughed  at  the 
Correspondant  for  dwelling  on  the  careful  and  prolonged 
discussions  which  were  in  point  of  fact  so  marked  a  feature 
in  the  Vatican  Council.  'The  Correspondant -wdLUts  them 
to  discuss,'  wrote  Veuillot,  '  and  wishes  the  Holy  Ghost  to 
take  time  in  forming  an  opinion.  It  has  a  hundred  argu- 
ments to  prove  how  much  time  for  reflection  is  indispensable 
to  the  Holy  Ghost.' 

In  October  1869  the  Univers  printed  in  a  hymn  addressed 
to  Pius  IX.  words  almost  identical  with  those  addressed  by 
the  Church  to  the  Holy  Ghost  on  Whitsunday : 

'  Pater  pauperum, 
Dator  munerum. 
Lumen  cordium, 
Emitte  coelitus 
Lucis  tuae  radium.' 

In    the    following   month  came  a  version    of  the  hymn 

beginning 

'  Rerum  Deus  tenax  vigor,' 

with    the    word    'Pius'    substituted    for    'Deus'    {Univers, 
October  21  and  28  and  November  8). 

W.  G.  Ward  was  carrying  on  in  the  Dublin  Review  a 
more  carefully  reasoned  exposition  of  the  new  Ultramon- 
tanism,  maintaining  the  frequency  and  wide  scope  of  infallible 


PAPAL   INFALLIBILITY   (1867-1868)  213 

utterances.  While  theoretically  recognising  the  theological 
distinctions  which  Veuillot  neglected,  his  practical  conclusion 
as  to  the  significance  of  the  constant  Briefs,  Allocutions, 
and  Encyclicals  of  the  existing  Pontificate  was  (to  use  his 
own  words)  that  'in  a  figurative  sense  Pius  IX.  may  be  said 
never  to  have  ceased  from  one  continuous  ex  Cathedra 
pronouncement.'  ^ 

W.  G.  Ward  was,  moreover,  an  active  talker.  '  I  should 
like  a  new  Papal  Bull  every  morning  with  my  Times  at 
breakfast,'  was  one  of  his  sayings  which  gained  currency  as 
literally  meant.  His  articles  in  the  Dublin  were,  as  I  have 
already  said,  republished  in  a  volume  in  1866. 

Newman  followed  the  utterances  of  the  Univers  and 
the  Dublin  alike  with  profound  and  ever-deepening  distress. 
His  distress  was  the  greater  because  of  the  noble  elements 
in  the  Ultramontane  movement,  which  were,  he  considered, 
being  disfigured  by  exaggeration  and  party  spirit.  He  had 
himself  ever  been  an  Ultramontane  in  the  sense  that 
Mgr.  Sibour  and  Montalembert  were  Ultramontanes. 
He  had  held  that  the  Pontiff's  definitions  of  faith  were 
infallible.  But  he  felt  deeply,  as  did  Mgr.  Dupanloup, 
the  unchristian  animosity  displayed  by  M.  Veuillot  in  the 
name  of  Ultramontanism  against  such  admirable  Catholics 
as  Montalembert  and  his  friends  of  the  Correspojidant.  From 
W.  G.  Ward's  writings  personal  animosity  was  absent.  But 
his  extreme  theories  touched  more  closely  Newman's  own 
field  of  action  in  England.  And  the  blending  of  what 
Newman  felt  to  be  valuable  with  what  he  felt  to  be  impossible 
to  hold,  in  the  face  of  obvious  historical  facts  and  recognised 
theological  principles,  was  even  more  marked  in  the  case 
of  the  English  writer.  To  follow  the  lead  of  Pius  IX. 
with  loyalty  was  one  thing.  To  commit  Catholic  theo- 
logians to  an  entirely  new  view  (as  Newman  considered) 
ascribing  infallibility  to  a  Pope's  public  utterances  which 
were  not  definitions  of  faith  or  morals  was  quite  another 
matter.  The  immense  value,  for  the  effectiveness  of  Catholi- 
cism as  a  power  in  the  world,  of  a  hearty  union  of  Catholics 
under  the  Pope  as  their  general  in  the  war  waged  by  the 
new  age  against  the  Church,  had  been  impressed  upon  the 
'  Essays  on  the  Chiin/vs  Doctrinal  Authoyiiy,  p.  510. 


214  I^IFE   OF   CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

Catholics  of  the  nineteenth  century  by  de  Maistre  in  his  great 
work  '  Du  Pape.'  The  gradual  extinction  of  Gallicanism 
was  the  result  of  a  movement  which  had  in  it  very  valuable 
elements.  It  was  a  simple  and  inspiring  programme  to  listen 
to  the  voice  of  the  reigning  Pontiff  as  ever  witnessing  to  the 
unerring  faith  of  Peter.  No  one  felt  all  this  in  his  heart 
more  deeply  than  did  Newman.  His  whole  sympathy  was 
ever  with  obedience  and  loyalty.  But  he  could  not  shut 
his  eyes  to  the  terrible  revenges  which  time  would  bring  on 
an  attempt  to  identify  the  Catholic  faith  with  views  which 
ignored  patent  facts  of  history,  including  the  human  defects 
of  Popes  themselves,  visible  at  times  even  in  their  official 
pronouncements.  He  could  not  forget  such  Popes  as 
Liberius  and  Honorius.  The  action  of  these  Pontiffs  could, 
no  doubt,  in  his  opinion,  be  defended  as  consistent  with 
Papal  Infallibility,  but  only  by  those  careful  distinctions  as 
to  what  official  utterances  were  and  were  not  infallible  which 
were  now  branded  as  '  Liberalism  '  by  Veuillot,  as  '  minimism  ' 
by  W.  G.  Ward.  Had  the  faithful  at  large  felt  bound,  under 
pain  of  mortal  sin  or  disloyalty  to  the  Church,  to  be  guided 
by  the  famous  official  letter  of  Pope  Honorius  to  the 
Patriarch  Sergius  which  encouraged  the  Monothelite  heresy, 
they  would  have  fallen  under  the  censure  of  Popes  Agatho 
and  Leo  II.,  who  anathematised  Pope  Honorius  for  that  very 
letter.  Had  the  letter  been  accepted  as  the  teaching  of  the 
Church,  had  a  critical  examination  of  its  exact  authority 
been  treated  as  disloyal,  the  Catholic  Communion  might 
have  become  largely  Monothelite.  Even  as  it  was,  the  letter 
proved,  in  the  words  of  a  distinguished  theologian,  'a 
tower  of  strength '  to  heretics  until  it  had,  later  on,  been 
authoritatively  declared  by  Rome  itself  to  be  no  embodi- 
ment of  her  Apostolic  tradition.'  Meanwhile  the  orthodox 
had  resolutely  to  oppose  the  Pope's  verdict.  '  Though 
a  Pope  do  all  that  Honorius  did,'  Newman  had  to  insist 
in  replying  to  a  letter  from  Dr.  Pusey,  in  which  current 
Ultramontane  excesses  were  treated  as  Catholic  doctrine, 
'  he  is  not  speaking  infallibly.'  All  this  was  practically 
ignored  by  M.  Veuillot.'* 

'  Dublin  Review,  No.  280,  p.  70. 

-  Mr.  Ward  dealt  with  the  Honorius  question  eventually,  see  p.  237. 


PAPAL    INFALLIBILITY    (1867-1S68)  215 

Able  historians  such  as  Lord  Acton,  whose  attitude 
towards  the  Papacy  was  hostile,  noted  in  triumph  the  un- 
historical  impossibilities  which  were  being  advanced  as  in- 
dispensable to  whole-hearted  orthodoxy.  Yet  the  trend  of 
events,  the  war  of  modern  civilisation  on  the  Church,  the 
iniquitous  spoliation  of  the  Holy  Sec,  had  in  fact  made 
loyalty  so  hot  and  undiscriminating,  as  in  some  quarters 
to  put  the  interests  of  intellectual  accuracy  and^' candour  in 
these  matters  almost  out  of  sight.  This  temper  of  mind 
was  prevalent  within  the  memory  of  many  of  us.  To  qualify 
and  distinguish  as  to  the  claims  of  the  Holy  P'ather's 
official  utterances  on  our  mental  allegiance,  seemed  to  many 
Catholics  at  that  moment  to  be  unworthy  and  half-hearted. 

Newman  had,  then,  the  most  painful  and  thankless  work 
before  him,  of  pointing  out  the  dangers  of  a  movement  which 
was  inspired  largely  by  devotion  to  Rome  ;  thus  seeming,  to 
those  who  were  blind  to  the  real  peril  of  the  situation,  to  side 
to  some  extent  with  the  cold  and  persecuting  world,  and 
with  half-hearted  Catholics  who  were  really  disaffected  and 
disloyal  ;  to  be,  in  his  jealous  protection  of  the  interests  of 
theological  truth,  guilty  of  intellectualism  or  intellectual 
pride. 

Scrupulously    anxious    to    keep    his    action    within    such 
limits  as  would  secure  its  being,  so  far  as  it  went,  effectual, 
Newman  took  two  significant  steps — one  in  1867,  the  other  in 
1868.     It  was  characteristic  of  him  that  he  carefully  confined 
himself  to  English  controversies — which  came  in  the  direct 
path  of  his  own  duty.     And  in  each  case,  what  he  ultimately 
did  was  less  than  what  he  first  planned.     He  had  planned,  as 
we  have  seen,  to  write  in  1866  on  Papal  Infallibility  in  answer 
to  VV.  G.  Ward.     He  ended  by  encouraging  P^ather  Ignatius 
Ryder  to  write  in  1 867,  and  doing  his  best  to  support  him  by 
the  weight  of  his  name  and  by  his  acknowledged  sympathy. 
In  1868  he  encouraged  Mr.  Peter  le  Page  Renouf  to  write  on 
the  Honorius  case  with  a  view  to  showing  the  difficulties  it 
raised  in  connection  with  the  doctrine  of  Papal  Infallibility. 
He    proposed  to    make    Rcnouf's   pamphlet    an    excuse    for 
writing  himself  on  the  .subject,  but  in  the  end  only  did  his 
best  privately  to  urge  the  importance  of  the  question  being 
fully  ventilated. 


2x6  LIFE    OF   CARDINAL    NEWMAN 

In  connection  with  Father  Ryder's  pamphlet  there  were 
two  points  which  he  was  specially  desirous  of  emphasising. 
The  first  (referred  to  in  a  letter  to  Ryder  himself)  was  the 
degree  of  freedom  which  a  Catholic  might  lawfully  claim 
for  his  internal  belief  except  when  that  freedom  was 
barred  by  a  definition  of  faith.  He  claimed  freedom  to 
differ  from  the  generally  received  view,  not  universally, 
but  in  this  or  that  case  where  the  individual  had  access 
to  urgent  reasons  for  so  doing.  The  second  point  was 
the  necessity  that  the  doctrinal  effect  of  each  fresh  official 
Papal  utterance  should  be  interpreted  not  by  the  private 
judgment  of  the  ordinary  reader  exercised  on  the  text  of  the 
particular  utterance  alone,  but  by  the  gradual  sifting  of  theo- 
logical experts  whose  business  it  is  to  determine  the  authority 
of  the  fresh  utterance  and  to  collate  it  with  other  loci  theo- 
logici.  He  believed  that  such  scientific  thoroughness  gave 
far  greater  liberty  of  opinion  to  Catholics  than  Mr.  Ward 
allowed  them.  His  anxiety  seems  to  have  been,  in  view  of 
possible  future  discoveries  in  science  and  criticism,  to  make 
it  clear  that  the  road  was  not  finally  barred  to  such  recon- 
sideration of  some  received  views  as  might  eventually  prove 
necessary,  but  at  the  same  time  to  leave  the  presumption 
on  the  side  of  what  was  generally  accepted. 

This  line  of  thought  was  expressed  in  the  first  instance 
in  the  course  of  a  correspondence  with  Pusey.  Pusey 
treated  Newman's  repudiation  of  the  excesses  of  Ward 
and  Faber  as  an  assertion  of  that  principle  of  '  minimism  ' 
which  W.  G.  Ward  was  constantly  denouncing.  Newman 
repudiated  the  charge.  How  hearty  and  thorough  was 
Newman's  own  obedience  to  the  Papacy,  how  ungrudging 
his  recognition  of  the  wide  sphere  of  its  authority,  is  ap- 
parent in  two  remarkable  letters  to  Pusey  written  in  response 
to  a  request  from  Bishop  Forbes  of  Brechin  for  further 
information.^ 

'  It  may  be  pointed  out  that  Newman  analyses  in  these  letters,  in  the  field  of 
dogma,  a  principle  which  is  more  popularly  recognised  in  the  field  of  morals — 
that  '  extrinsic '  probability,  that  is  the  consensus  of  competent  theologians  as  to  a 
particular  conclusion,  holds  the  field  in  the  first  instance,  and  claims  our  allegiance 
prima  facie  ;  yet,  in  the  case  of  those  competent  to  weigh  the  pros  and  cons  in  a 
special  case,  the  '  intrinsic '  probability,  that  is  the  value  of  the  actual  reasons 
alleged,  may  lawfully  be  estimated  and  acted  on  by  the  individual,  in  opposition 


, 


PAPAL   INFALLIBILITY   (1867-1868)  217 

'The  Oratory  :  March  22nd,  1867. 

'  My  dear  Pusey, — I  understand  that  you  and  Bishop 
Forbes  (who  I  hope  will  allow  me  to  answer  him  through 
you)  ask  simply  the  question  of  fact,  what  is  held  and  must 
be  held  by  members  of  our  communion  about  the  powers  of 
the  Pope. 

*  Any  categorical  answer  would  be  unsatisfactory — but 
if  I  must  so  speak,  I  should  say  that  his  jurisdiction,  (for 
that  I  conceive  you  to  mean  by  "  powers  ")  is  unlimited  and 
despotic.  And  I  think  this  is  the  general  opinion  among  us. 
I  am  not  a  deep  theologian, —  but,  as  far  as  I  understand  the 
question,  it  is  my  own  opinion.  There  is  nothing  which  any 
other  authority  in  the  Church  can  do,  which  he  cannot  do  at 
once — and  he  can  do  things  which  they  cannot  do,  such  as 
destroy  a  whole  hierarchy,  as  well  as  create  one.  As  to  the 
question  of  property,  whether  he  could  simply  confiscate  the 
funds  of  a  whole  diocese,  I  do  not  know — but  I  suspect  he 
can.  Speaking  generally,  I  think  he  can  do  anything,  but 
break  the  divine  law. 

'  If  you  will  have  a  categorical  answer,  this  is  it — and 
I  do  not  see  how  I  can  modify  it.  But  such  a  jurisdiction 
is  (i)  not  so  much  a  practice  as  a  doctrine — and  (2)  not  so 
much  a  doctrine  as  a  principle  of  our  system.  Now  I  will 
attempt,  at  the  risk  of  making  a  very  long  matter  of  it,  to 
explain  what  I  mean. 

'  I.  It  must  not  be  supposed  that  the  Pope  does  or  can 
exercise  at  will  or  any  moment  those  powers  that  he  has. 
You  know  the  story  of  the  King  of  Spain  who  was  scorched 
to  death  because  the  right  officer  was  not  at  hand  to  wheel 
his  chair  from  the  fire — and  so  practically  the  Pope's  juris- 
diction requires  a  great  effort  to  put  it  into  motion.  Pius  VII. 
swept  away  a  good  part  of  the  P>ench  hierarchy,  but  this  is 
not  an  act  of  every  day.     Two  things   happened  while  wc 

to  a  generally  .accepted  view.  The  peculiarity  of  speculative  dogmatic  theolog}-, 
as  distinguished  from  moral  theology,  is  of  course  this— that  new  scientific  dis- 
coveries or  probabilities  on  its  borderland  may  create  a  new  intrinsic  probability, 
and  such  scientific  probabilities  are  at  first  only  appreciated  by  a  few.  This  fact 
he  illustrates  by  the  far-reaching  though  well-worn  facts  of  the  Galileo  case,  in  its 
bearing  on  the  conclusions  of  the  theologians  of  the  Inquisition  who  censured  his 
views  as  heretical.  In  moral  theology  the  premisses  of  a  received  conclusion  have 
no  such  changing  element,  for  they  consist  solely  in  the  nature  of  the  case  hypo- 
thetically  stated.  In  the  mixed  problems  of  theology  and  historical  criticism  it  is 
otherwise.  Their  conclusions  rest  on  premisses  partly  supplied  by  the  ordinary 
loci  tkeologici  and  partly  by  the  data  of  an  advancing  science.  Moreover,  such 
new  t/a/a  not  only  affect  'intrinsic'  probability  for  those  who  know  them,  but 
destroy  extrinsic  probability  for  conclusions  drawn  Ijefore  they  were  known. 


2i8  LIFE   OF   CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

were  at  Rome  to  illustrate  what  I  mean.  The  Pope  gave  us 
the  Oratory  of  Malta,  and  this,  mind,  not  by  any  claim  of 
general  jurisdiction  over  the  Oratory  and  other  religious 
bodies,  which  are  his  own  creation.  We  were  talking  of 
taking  possession,  (not  that  we  had  ever  really  made  up  our 
minds)  when  an  experienced  Jesuit  at  Propaganda  said  to 
us  :  "  It  is  your  interest  to  go  to  the  Bishop  of  Malta.  It  is 
all  very  fine  your  having  the  Oratory  there  as  a  present  from 
the  Pope,  but  you  will  find,  when  you  get  there,  that,  in  spite 
of  the  Pope's  act,  the  Bishop  is  the  greater  man  of  the  two." 
And  since  then  I  have  always  been  struck  with  the  great 
power  of  Bishops  in  their  respective  dioceses,  even  in  England 
where  (as  being  under  Propaganda)  they  have  not  the  power 
they  possess  in  Catholic  countries.  Indeed,  one  of  the  great 
causes  of  the  bad  state  of  things  in  Italy  is  (I  do  believe) 
because  the  Pope  cannot  effect  reforms  in  particular  dioceses 
from  the  traditional  usages  and  the  personal  resistance  of 
Bishops  and  clergy.  And  again  as  to  Rome,  they  say  the 
Pope  has  practically  hardly  any  power  at  all  in  his  own  city. 
The  second  instance  which  came  before  us  when  we  were  in 
Rome  was  this  : — the  Pope  told  the  Jesuit  Feather  that  he 
had  appointed  Dr.  Wiseman  Vicar  Apostolic  of  London. 
It  got  about  Rome,  and  at  length  was  told  by  a  lady  in  all 
simplicity  to  Cardinal  Fransoni,  Prefect  of  the  Sacred  Con- 
gregation of  Propaganda.  lie  at  once  drew  up  and  abruptly 
denied  there  was  an  appointment.  He  said  the  appoint- 
ment belonged  to  Propaganda,  to  him,  and  the  Pope  could 
not  interfere — and  the  Pope  was  obliged  to  give  way — and 
Dr.  Walsh  was  appointed  instead.  His  abstract  power 
is  not  a  practical  fact, 

'  2.  And  now  secondly  I  observe  that  it  is  not  so  much 
even  an  abstract  doctrine  as  it  is  a  principle  ;  by  which 
I  mean  something  far  more  subtle  and  intimately  con- 
nected with  our  system  itself  than  a  doctrine,  so  as  not 
to  be  contained  in  the  written  law,  but  to  be,  like  the 
common  law  of  the  land,  or  rather  the  principles  of  the 
Constitution,  contained  in  the  very  idea  of  our  being  what 
we  arc. 

'  I  hope  you  will  let  me  go  a  good  way  back  to  show  this, 
though  I  fear  you  may  think  me  dissertating  ;  but  it  will  lead 
me  to  remark  on  a  previous  question  to  the  one  you  ask  me, 
and  which  I  really  ought  to  handle,  lest  in  answering  your 
question  at  all,  I  lead  you  to  think  I  am  able  to  follow  you 
in  a  view  of  it  which  I  cannot  take. 

'  I  must  then  deliver  a  sort  of  Sermon  against  Minimism 
and  Minimists. 


PAPAL   INFALLIBILITY   (1867-1868)  219 

'  The  words  then  of  Councils,  &c.,  on  the  subject  of  the 
Pope's  powers  are  (to  a  certain  degree)  vague,  as  you  say, 
and  indefinite  ;  even  for  this  reason,  viz. — from  the  strong 
rehictancc  which  has  ever  been  felt,  to  restrict  the  liberty 
of  thinking  and  judging  more  than  was  absolutely  necessary, 
as  a  matter  of  sacred  duty,  in  order  to  the  maintenance 
of  the  revealed  depositiun.  It  has  always  been  trusted  that 
the  received  belief  of  the  faithful  and  the  obligations  of  piety 
would  cover  a  larger  circuit  of  doctrinal  matter  than  was 
formally  claimed,  and  secure  a  more  generous  faith  than  was 
imperative  on  the  conscience.  Hence  there  has  never  been 
a  wish  on  the  part  of  the  Church  to  cut  clean  between 
doctrine  revealed  and  doctrine  not  revealed  ;  first  indeed, 
because  she  actually  cannot  do  so  at  any  given  moment,  but 
is  illuminated  from  time  to  time  as  to  what  was  revealed 
in  the  beginning  on  this  or  that  portion  of  the  whole  mass 
of  teaching  which  is  now  received  ;  but  secondly,  because 
for  that  very  reason  she  would  be  misrepresenting  the  real 
character  of  the  dispensation,  as  God  has  given  it,  and  would 
be  abdicating  her  function,  and  misleading  her  children  into 
the  notion  that  she  was  something  obsolete  and  passe, 
considered  as  a  divine  oracle,  and  would  be  transferring 
their  faith  from  resting  on  herself  as  the  organ  of  revelation 
(and  in  some  sense  impropric)  as  its  formal  object,  simply 
to  a  code  of  certain  definite  articles  or  a  written  creed  (or 
material  object)  if  she  authoritatively  said  that  so  much,  and 
no  more,  is  "  de  fide  Catholica"  and  binding  on  our  inward 
assent.  Accordingly,  the  act  of  faith,  as  we  consider,  must 
now  be  partly  explicit,  partly  implicit ;  viz.  "  I  believe  what- 
ever has  been  and  whatever  shall  be  defined  as  revelation 
by  the  Church  who  is  the  origin  of  revelation  "  ;  or  again, 
"  I  believe  in  the  Church's  teaching,  whether  explicit  or 
implicit,"  i.e.  "  Ecclesiae  docenti  et  explicite  et  implicite." 
This  rule  applies  both  to  learned  and  to  ignorant  ;  for,  as 
the  ignorant,  who  does  not  understand  theological  terms, 
must  say,  "  I  believe  the  Athanasian  Creed  in  that  sense 
in  which  the  Church  puts  it  forward,"  or,  "  I  believe  that  the 
Church  is  veracious,"  so  the  learned,  though  they  do  under- 
stand the  theological  wording  of  that  Creed,  and  can  say 
intelligently  what  the  ignorant  cannot  say,  viz.  "  I  believe 
that  there  are  Three  Aeterni,  and  one  Aeterniis,''  still  have 
need  to  add,  "  I  believe  it  because  the  Church  has  declared 
it,"  and,  "  I  believe  all  that  the  Church  has  defined  or  shall 
define  as  revealed,"  and  "  I  absolutely  submit  my  mind  with 
an  inward  assent  to  the  Church,  as  the  teacher  of  the  whole 
faith." 


2  20  LIFE   OF  CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

'  Accordingly  the  use  of  such  books  as  Veron's  and 
Chrissman's  (which  contain  that "  Minimum  "  which  Dr.  Forbes 
asks  about)  is  mainly  to  ascertain  the  matter  of  fact,  viz.  what 
at  present  is  defined  by  the  Church  as  "de  fide  " ;  and  with 
whatever  difference  in  the  way  of  putting  it,  they  would  not 
deny  that  it  is  in  the  power  of  the  Church  to  define  points 
hitherto  open,  and  that  the  faithful  are  bound  to  accept  these 
with  an  inward  assent  when  they  are  defined. 

'  But  post  time  has  come, — and  perhaps  I  ought  to  let  it 
bring  what  I  have  to  say  to  an  end — yet,  if  you  will  let  me, 
I  should  like  to  run  out  what  I  have  begun— though  it  will 
give  you  trouble  to  read. 

'  Ever  yours  affectionately, 

John  H.  Newman.' 

'  The  Oratory,  Birmingham  :  March  23rd,  1867. 

'  My  dear  Pusey, — I  do  hope  you  will  not  think  I  am 
preaching — but  to  answer  you,  without  showing  you  that  the 
answer  is  given  from  a  different  basis  from  that  on  which  the 
question  is  asked,  would  be  to  mislead  you  and  the  Bishop — 
it  would  in  fact  be  an  equivocation — for  "  Minimism  "  in  my 
mouth  does  not  mean  the  same  thing  as  in  yours. 

'  I  ended  yesterday  by  saying  that  such  writers  as  Veron 
and  Chrissman  and  Denzinger,  in  laying  down  what  was  "  de 
fide,"  never  pretended  to  exclude  the  principle  that  it  was  "de 
fide  "  because  the  Church  taught  it  as  such,  and  that  she  could 
teach  other  things  as  "  de  fide "  by  the  same  right  as  she 
taught  what  she  now  teaches  as  such.  This  is  our  broad 
principle,  held  by  all  of  whatever  shade  of  theological 
opinion.  While  it  would  be  illogical  not  to  give  an  inward 
assent  to  what  she  has  already  declared  to  be  revealed,  so  it 
is  pious  and  religious  to  believe,  or  at  least  not  to  doubt, 
what,  though  in  fact  not  defined,  still  it  \s  probable  she  might 
define  as  revealed,  or  that  she  will  define,  or  seems  to  consider 
to  be  revealed. 

'  To  illustrate  the  difference  between  simply  faith  and 
religiousness : — it  is  as  great  a  sin  against  faith  to  deny  that 
there  is  a  Purgatory  as  to  deny  that  there  is  the  Beatific 
Vision  ;  but  it  is  a  sin  against  religiousness  as  well  as 
against  faith  to  deny  the  latter.  And  so,  as  to  the  Church's 
teaching  about  the  Holy  See,  before  the  Council  of  Florence, 
about  which  you  ask  (supposing  the  following  point  was  not 
already  defined,  which  I  do  not  know),  it  might  be  pious  to 
believe,  and  a  defect  in  piety  (in  educated  men)  not  to  believe 
that  the  Pope  was  "  totius  Ecclesiae  Doctor,"  because  it  was 
clear   the  Church  held  it,  and  probable  that  she  might  and 


PAPAL   INFALLIBILITY   (1867-1868)  221 

would  define  it ;  and  it  is  this  spirit  of  piety  which  holds 
together  the  whole  Church.  We  embrace  and  believe  what 
we  find  universally  received,  till  a  question  arises  about  any 
particular  point.  Thus,  as  to  our  Lord's  perfect  knowledge 
in  His  Human  Nature,  we  might  always  have  admitted  it 
without  a  question  through  piety  to  the  general  voice — then, 
when  the  controversy  arose,  we  might  ask  ourselves  if  it  had 
been  defined,  examine  the  question  for  ourselves  and  end 
the  examination  by  (wrongly  but  allowably)  doubting  of  it ; 
but  then  zvhen  the  definition  was  published  in  its  favour,  we 
should  submit  our  minds  to  the  obedience  of  faith.  So  again 
Galileo,  supposing  he  began  (I  have  no  reason  for  implying 
or  thinking  he  did,  but  supposing  he  began)  with  doubting 
the  received  doctrine  about  the  centrality  of  the  earth,  I 
think  he  would  have  been  defective  in  religiousness  ;  but  not 
defective  in  faith,  (unless  indeed  by  chance  he  erroneously 
thought  that  the  centrality  had  been  defined).  On  the  other 
hand,  when  he  saw  good  reasons  for  doubting  it,  it  was  very 
fair  to  ask,  and  implied  no  irreligiousness, — "  After  all,  is  it 
defined  ? "  and  then,  on  inquiry,  he  would  have  found  his 
liberty  of  thought  "  in  possession,"  and  would  both  by  right 
and  with  piety  doubt  of  the  earth's  centrality. 

'  Applying  this  principle  to  the  Pope's  Infallibility,  (N.B. 
this  of  course  is  mine  own  opinion  only,  meo  periculo^ 
a  man  will  find  it  a  religious  duty  to  believe  it  or  may  safely 
disbelieve  it,  in  proportion  as  he  thinks  it  probable  or  im- 
probable that  the  Church  might  or  will  define  it,  or  does  hold 
it,  and  that  it  is  the  doctrine  of  the  Apostles.  For  myself, 
(still  to  illustrate  what  I  mean,  not  as  arguing)  I  think  that 
the  Church  vtay  define  it  (i.e.  it  possibly  may  turn  out  to 
belong  to  the  original  dcpositum),  but  that  she  will  not  ever 
define  it ;  and  again  I  do  not  see  that  she  can  be  said  to  hold 
it.  She  never  can  simply  act  upon  it,  (being  undefined,  as  it 
is)  and  I  believe  never  has  ; — moreover,  on  the  other  hand, 
I  think  there  is  a  good  deal  of  evidence,  on  the  very  surface 
of  history  and  the  Fathers  in  its  favour.  On  the  whole  then 
I  hold  it  ;  but  I  should  account  it  no  sin  if,  on  the  grounds 
of  reason,  I  doubted  it. 

'  I  have  made  this  long  talk  by  way  of  protest  against  the 
principle  of  the  "  Minimum"  which  both  you  and  Dr.  Forbes 
stand  upon,  and  which  we  never  can  accept  as  a  principle,  or 
as  a  basis  of  an  Eirenicon.  It  seems  to  us  false,  and  wc  must 
ever  hold,  on  the  contrary,  that  the  object  of  faith  is  not 
simply  certain  articles,  A.  B.  C.  D.  contained  in  dumb  docu- 
ments, but  the  whole  word  of  God,  explicit,  and  implicit,  as 


222  LIFE    OF   CARDINAL    NFAVMAN 

dispensed  by  His  living  Church.  On  this  point  I  am  sure 
there  can  be  no  Eirenicon  ;  for  it  marks  a  fundamental,  ele- 
mentary difference  between  the  Anglican  view  and  ours, 
and  every  attempt  to  bridge  it  over  will  but  be  met  in  the 
keen  and  stern  temper  of  Cardinal  Patrizzi's  letter.^ 

•  Nor  is  the    point  which  is  the  direct  subject  of  your 
question    much  or   at    all    less    an  elementary  difference  of 
principle  between  us  ;  viz.   the  Pope's  jurisdiction  : — it  is  a 
difference  of  principle  even    more  than   of  doctrine.     That 
that   jurisdiction  is  universal    is    involved  in    the  very  idea 
of  a  Pope  at  all.     I  can  easily  understand  that  it  was  only 
partially  apprehended  in  the  early  ages  of  the  Church,  and 
that,  as  Judah  in  the    Old  Covenant  was   not    duly  recog- 
nised and  obeyed    as  the  ruling    tribe  except  gradually,  so 
St.  Cyprian  or  St.  Augustine  in  Africa  (if  so)  or  St.  Basil  in 
Asia  Minor  (if  so)  may  have  fretted  under  the  imperiousness 
of  Rome,  and  not  found  a   means    of  resignation    in    their 
trouble  ready  at  hand  in  a  clear  view  (which  they  had  not) 
that  Rome  was  one  of  the  powers  that  be,  which  are  ordained 
of  God.     It  required  time  for    Christians  to  enter  into  the 
full  truth,  so  as  always  on  all  points  to  think  and  act  aright ; 
and  in  saying  this,  I    do  not  mean  to  admit  the    force    of 
Mr.  Bright's   historical    arguments   against  our  view  of  the 
matter;— but  I  admit  them  for  argument's  sake,  and  am  ap- 
pealing to  the  nature  and  necessity  of  the  case,  and  to  the 
common-sense  view  of  the  case.     P'or  to  this  day  a  dormant 
jurisdiction  is  far  from  uncommon  among  us.      Bishops  for 
some  reason  or  other  allow  priests  sometimes  to  go  on  their 
own  way,  and  to  act  by  usage  in  certain  things,  as  if  they  (the 
priests)  had  power  of  their  own  ;  and  then  some  new  Bishop 
comes  perhaps,  like  a  new  broom,  and  pulls  them  up  .sharply, 
and  shows  that  such  usage  was  mere  matter  of  allowance  ; 
and    the  priests  for  a  time  resist  through   ignorance.     And 
parallel    interpretations    may    be    given    mutatis    vmtandis 
even    to    the    acts    of  Councils,  taking   those   acts   on    our 
opponents'  .showing.     Putting  aside  then,  as  in  our  feeling  it 
may  be  put  aside,  the  historical  question,  our  feeling  as  a 
f(xct  (for  so  alone  I  am  speaking  of  it)  is  this  :— that  there  is 
no    use    in    a    Pope   at   all,  except  to    bind    the    whole    of 
Christendom    into   one    polity  ;  and  that  to  ask  us  to  give 
up    his    universal   jurisdiction    is    to    invite   us    to    commit 
suicide.      To    do    .so    is    not    the    act  of  an  Eirenicon.  .  .  . 
"  Dissolutionem  facis,  pacem  appellas  !  "     Whatever  be  the 
extent   of  "  State   rights,"  .some    jurisdiction    the    President 

'  Onthe  A.P.U.C. 


PAPAL   INFALLIBILITY   (1867-1S6S)  2-^ 


J 


must  have  over  the  American  Union,  as  a  whole,  if  he  is  to 
be  of  any  use  or  meaning  at  all.  He  cannot  be  a  mere 
Patriarch  of  the  Yankees,  or  Exarch  of  the  West  country 
squatters,  or  "  primus  inter  pares "  with  the  Governors  of 
Kentucky  and  Vermont.  An  honorary  head,  call  him 
primate  or  premier  duke,  does  not  affect  the  real  force  or 
enter  into  the  essence  of  a  political  body,  and  it  is  not  worth 
contending  about.  We  do  not  want  a  man  of  straw,  but  a 
bond  of  unity. 

'  This  shows  that,  as  a  matter  of  principle,  the  Pope  must 
have  universal  jurisdiction  ;  and  then  comes  the  question  to 
what  extent  ?  Now  the  Church  is  a  Church  Militant,  and, 
as  the  commander  of  an  army  is  despotic,  so  must  the 
visible  head  of  the  Church  be  ;  and  therefore  in  its  idea  the 
Pope's  jurisdiction  can  hardly  be  limited. 

'  I  am  not  arguing  with  antecedent  arguments  ;  I  am 
accounting  for  a  fact.  It  is  Whately's  "  a  "  not  "  A."  I 
have  proposed  to  draw  out  the  facts  as  a  matter  of  principle, 
not  of  doctrine.  Doctrine  is  the  voice  of  a  religious  body  ; 
its  principles  are  of  its  substance.  The  principles  may  be 
turned  into  doctrines  by  being  defined  ;  but  they  live  as 
necessities  before  definition,  and  are  the  less  likely  to  be 
defined,  because  they  are  so  essential  to  life. 

'  I  end  by  again  apologising  for  so  long  a  letter  ;  but 
I  could  not  answer  you  in  any  other  way  ;  and  perhaps  you 
will  say  I  have  not  answered  you  at  all. 

'  Ever  yours  affectionately, 

John  H.  Newman.' 

Having  thus  unreservedly  defended  the  fullest  extent  of 
the  Pope's  jurisdiction  as  well  as  the  pictas  fidei  against  the 
'  minimisers '  of  whom  Pusey  would  fain  have  extracted 
from  him  some  approval  or  countenance,  Newman  was  in  a 
position  with  a  safe  conscience  to  send  him  a  month  later 
Father  Ryder's  criticism  on  W.  G.  Ward's  attempt  to  make 
almost  equally  unrestricted  the  binding  force  of  Papal  utter- 
ances on  the  thoughts  of  Catholics  as  well  as  on  their  actions. 
He  enclosed  with  the  pamphlet  the  following  letter : 

'The  Oratory,  Birmingham  :  May  ist,  1867. 

'  My  dear  Pusey, —  I  send  you  a  pamphlet  by  this  post, 
not  that  you  will  agree  with  it,  but  because  you  may  like  to 
know  what  men  of  moderate  opinion  amongst  us  at  this  da)- 
hold.  In  substance  I  agree  with  it.  The  extreme  view  (of 
laxity)  is  Muratori's. 


224  IJFR    OF   CARDINAL    NEWMAN 

'  The  subject  is  the  province  of  ecclesiastical  infallibility. 
'  With  best  Easter  wishes, 

'  I  am, 

Ever  yours  affectionately, 

John  H.  Newman.' 

To  W.  G.  Ward  himself  he  had  written  on  the  previous 
day  : 

'  The  Oratory,  Birmingham  :  April  30t]i,  1867. 

'  My  dear  Ward, — I  send  you  by  this  post  Fr.  Ryder's 
pamphlet  in  criticism  of  some  theological  views  of  yours. 
Though  I  frankly  own  that  in  substance  I  agree  with  it 
heartily,  it  was  written  simply  and  entirely  on  his  own  idea, 
without  any  suggestion  (as  far  as  I  know)  from  anyone  here 
or  elsewhere,  and  on  his  own  choice  of  topics,  his  own  reading, 
and  his  own  mode  of  composition. 

'  I  think  he  is  but  a  specimen  of  a  number  of  young 
Catholics  who  have  a  right  to  an  opinion  on  the  momentous 
subject  in  question,  and  who  feel  keenly  that  you  are  desirous 
to  rule  views  of  doctrine  to  be  vital  which  the  Church  does 
not  call  or  consider  vital.  And  certainly,  without  any  un- 
kindness  towards  you,  or  any  thought  whatever  that  you 
have  been  at  all  wanting  in  kindness  to  me  personally,  I 
rejoice  in  believing  that,  now  that  my  own  time  is  drawing  to 
an  end,  the  new  generation  will  not  forget  the  spirit  of  the 
old  maxim  in  which  I  have  ever  wished  to  speak  and  act 
myself:  "  In  necessariis  unitas,  in  dubiis  libertas,  in  omnibus 
charitas." 

'  Yours  affectly.  in  Xt., 

John  H.  Newman.' 

Father  Ryder's  pamphlet  was  entitled  '  Idealism  in  Theo- 
logy.' It  was  a  very  brilliant  and  witty  piece  of  writing.  Its 
motto  on  the  title-page  was  taken  from  '  Timon  of  Athens '  : 
'  The  middle  of  humanity  thou  never  knewest,  but  the  ex- 
tremity of  both  ends.'  He  traces  W.  G.  Ward's  extremes  on 
the  side  of  authority  to  those  very  extremes  on  the  side  of 
scepticism  which  were  to  him  the  alternative  ;— to  the  cast  of 
mind  which  made  him  a  sympathetic  reader  of  the  works  of 
J.  S.  Mill.  The  reaction  from  one  extreme  led  to  another. 
A  watertight  compartment  for  faith,  sealed  by  authority,  in 
which  all  religious  beliefs  should  be  safely  locked  up,  was  the 
alternative  to  scepticism.  Falling  back  upon  Ward's  '  Ideal 
of  a  Christian  Church'  as  the  truest  representation   of  his 


PAPAL   INFALLIBILITY   (1867-1868)  325 

mind  and  method,  Ryder  traces  his  theory  of  Infallibility  to 
his  passion  for  ideal  completeness.  He  regards  it  as  a  theory 
based  on  d  priori  needs,  and  constructed  without  any 
adequate  regard  to  the  caution  of  true  theology  or  the  facts 
of  history.  Moreover,  as  Papal  utterances  were  now  becoming 
so  numerous,  to  intimate  that  the  Pope  could  scarcely  speak 
publicly  without  speaking  infallibly  was,  as  Ryder  maintains 
in  a  witty  passage,  to  ascribe  to  him  a  gift  *  like  that  of  Midas's 
touch  of  gold,'  very  wonderful,  but  very  inconvenient. 

W.  G.  Ward,  so  Ryder  maintained,  imposed  as  obligatory 
upon  all  Catholics,  under  pain  of  mortal  sin,  deductions  of  his 
own  which  were  not  shared  by  many  theologians  of  weight. 

Ryder  further  protested  against  the  damaging  assumption 
that  the  theological  moderation  which  comes  of  thought 
and  wide  reading  implies  a  lower  level  of  loyalty  to  the 
Church  and  Holy  See  than  an  unthinking  acceptance  of 
extreme  claims  on  their  behalf  To  flatter  the  authorities  by 
exaggerating  their  powers,  as  Canute's  courtiers  flattered 
him,  was  not  to  be  specially  loyal  ;  still  less  was  such  an 
attitude  desirable,  if  it  involved  assertions  which  prevented 
effective  reply  to  the  charges  of  extravagance  brought 
against  Catholic  doctrine  by  its  critics.  Moderation  due 
to  a  perception  of  real  difficulties  was  not  lukewarmness. 
Sir  Thomas  More  was  at  once  a  hero  and  a  moderate. 
Moderate  Catholics  were  often  stigmatised  as  '  Gallicans '  ; 
but  Ryder,  in  a  passage  full  of  dignity,  justifies  their  position 
as  often  imi)lying  deeper  loyalty  than  that  of  extremists, 
although  their  views  may  differ  from  those  of  the  '  Roman 
party.'  And  when  extremists  urged  that  to  accept  the 
prevailing  view  of  the  time  is  the  course  marked  out  by 
'  Catholic  instincts,'  they  needed  to  be  reminded  of  the 
changes  time  had  wrought  in  the  views  prevailing  in  different 
epochs — for  in.stance,  de  Lugo  records  the  fact  that  nearly  all 
theologians  at  one  time  denied  the  Immaculate  Conception. 

Three  points  noted  by  Ryder,  as  instances  of  excessive 
claims  advanced  on  behalf  of  the  Papacy  by  Mr.  Ward, 
were:  (i)  the  claim  that  the  Pope's  doctrinal  instructions  in 
Encyclicals  were  infallible ;  (2)  the  claim  that  the  Holy 
See  by  its  philosophical  condemnations  helps  directly  in 
determining  philosophical  truth  as  such  ;  and  (3)  the  claim  for 

VOL.  II.  Q 


2  2f)  LIFE   OF   CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

interior  assent  on  the  part  of  men  of  science  to  the  decrees  of 
the  Roman  Congregations  admitted  not  to  be  infalHble. 

On  the  first  point,  Ryder  cites  great  theologians,  as 
Ballerini,  Amort,  Capellari  (afterwards  Gregory  XVI.),  as  to 
the  careful  tests  which  are  necessary  to  determine  what  a 
Pope  does  define  ex  cathedra.  He  notes  also  that  the 
doctrinal  instructions  of  Encyclical  Letters  are  never  used  by 
classical  theologians  as  decisive.  He  quotes  Father  Tanner, 
the  Jesuit,  as  invoking  the  general  opinion  of  the  faithful 
and  of  theologians,  in  order  to  determine  precisely  what  is 
authoritatively  determined  in  such  documents. 

On  the  second  point,  Ryder  held  that  censures  passed  by 
Rome  on  philosophical  writings  merely  prove  the  censured 
system  to  have  on  some  point  run  counter  to  orthodox 
theology.' 

'   '  The  Church,  in  her  philosophical  condemnations,'  he  writes,  *  cares  nothing 
for  philosophical  truth  as  such.     She  represents  a  higher  interest,  to  which  every 
other  must  give  way.     Two  rival  systems  of  philosophy  are  struggling  for  pre- 
eminence.    The  one  that  is  the  truest,  the  one  that  bears  within  it  the  true  germ 
of  all  philosophic  growth  and  movement,  and  which  is  one  day  to  prevail — from  the 
very  fact  that  it  is  living,  and  not  mechanical — is  the  more  open  to  dangerous  error, 
in  that  portion  of  the  intellectual  field  which  philosophy  and  theology  have  in  com- 
mon. Although  its  chariot  wheel  does  but  graze  the  car  upon  which  the  Church  sits 
enthroned  ;  although  its  theological  error  is  so  slight  viewed  as  men  view  it,  and  the 
philosophic  truth  it  carries  so  great  and  so  important  ;  yet  the  erring  wheel  is  broken 
and   the  chariot   overthrown;  while  the  rival  system,  shallow   and  safe,  glides 
smoothly  on  upon  the  other  side,  triumphant.     What  matters  it  to  the  Church,  that 
the  hopes  of  philosophy  are  for  the  time  checked  !     Her  office  is  to  preserve,  at 
any  cost,  each  particle  of  religious  truth  entrusted  to  her.     Between  her  truth  and 
other  truth,  so  far  as  it  is  truth,  God,  in  his  own  good  time,  will  effect  reconcilia- 
tion, giving  to  each  its  complement.     Even  as  regards  her  own  theology  it  has  been 
remarked  that  the  Church  has  frequently  smitten  the  forerunners  and  heralds  of  a 
new  development  of  dogma  or  discipline,  men  of  keen  minds,  with  the  genius  of 
anticipation,  but  whose  zeal  was  not  according  to  knowledge  ;  and  who,  in  their 
impatient  worship  of  the  new,  forgot  their  reverence  for  the  old.     And  some  of 
these  have  wholly  fallen  away  and  become  heretics,  leaving  the  work  for  which 
they  were  not  worthy  to  other  hands.     So  cautious  ever  is  the  Church,  so  jealous  of 
the  wild  intellect  of  man,  which  she  addresses  with  blows  rather  than  with  words. 
She  will  not  condescend  to  argue  or  to  explain  ;  she  will  not  clothe  herself  with  the 
philosopher's  pallium  ;  or,  if  she  does,  it  straightway  becomes  a  cope  broidered 
with  mystic  characters,  which  has  a  new  significance,  of  which  the  old  was  but  a 
type  and  shadow. 

'  I  am  not  saying  that  the  philosopher  can  never  gain  anything  from  his  con- 
demnations ;  and  that,  not  merely  as  a  man  wiih  a  supernatural  end  identical  with 
that  of  the  Church,  but  even  gita  philosopher.  But  he  must  have  nerve  enough 
to  set  himself  to  analyse  precisely  the  extent  of  the  Church's  condemnation,  so  as 
to  preserve  his  original  system,  to  the  full  extent  that  the  Church  will  allow  him. 


PAPAL   INFALLIBILITY   (1867-186S)  227 

Such  a  warning,  however  emphatic,  could  not  be  said 
to  be  tantamount  to  imparting  important  positive  truth. 

'  Let  me  take  an  example,'  Fr.  Ryder  wrote.  '  A  boy- 
has  a  long  sum  to  do  ;  when  finished,  as  he  thinks,  he  takes 
it  up  to  his  master ;  it  is  wrong,  he  receives  a  tremendous  cut 
across  the  shoulders,  and  his  slate  is  thrown  at  his  head. 
Now  would  it  not  be  rather  hyperbolical — nay,  would  it  not 
be  simply  untrue,  even  if  the  sum  represented  the  whole  of 
arithmetic — to  say  that  a  vast  mass  of  arithmetical  truth  had 
been  taught  ? ' 

Mr.  Ward's  exhortation  to  men  of  science  to  assent 
interiorly  to  the  decisions  of  the  Roman  Congregations, 
though  he  admitted  that  the  further  advance  of  science 
might  eventually  prove  Rome  to  have  been  mistaken,  is 
rejected  by  Father  Ryder  in  the  following  words : 

'  What  sort  of  an  internal  assent  would  that  be  which 
could  co-exist  with  the  feeling,  that,  though  the  Church  was 
right,  they  must  really  see  whether  she  was  not  wrong?  If, 
on  the  other  hand,  their  interior  assent  was  firm,  and  their 
doubt  purely  methodical,  imagine  the  shock  to  the  poor 
orthodox  men  of  science,  when  they  should  find  the  Church 
wrong  after  all  ;  either  reason  or  faith  must  give  way.'  ^ 

But  indeed  the  fundamental  assumption  of  Mr.  Ward's 
reasoning,  that  what  is  desirable  for  the  effective  preservation 

If,  however,  he  falls  into  the  mistake  of  supposing  that  the  Church  is  teaching 
philosophy,  the  danger  will  be,  that,  if  a  good  Catholic,  he  will  throw  himself 
into  the  opposite  s>stem,  and  so  embrace  a  vast  mass  of  tenets  which,  whilst 
theologically  safe,  are,  some  of  them,  philosophically  false. 

*  As  to  the  condemnations  of  Hermes  and  Gunther  by  the  Congregations  of 
the  Inquisition  and  Index,  I  have  no  doubt  that  they  were  in  all  respects  true 
and  just.  I  simply  do  not  know  whether  they  were  infallible.  I'ius  IX.  in  the 
"  Eximi.am,"does  indeed  characterize  the  decree  of  the  Index  condemning  Gunther 
as  "  Decretiim  nostra  anctoritatc  savcitiim,  tiostroque  jtissu  vulgatiifn"  ;  but  the 
decree  of  the  Index  condemning  Copernicanisni  as  contra7y  to  Scripture,  is  quali- 
fied by  Bellarmine,  Fromond,  and  you,  as  '■'^  a  Declaration  of  His  HoIi7iess,'^  a. 
decree  '■'■  exavtincd,  7-atified,  authorized  by  the  Pope"  and,  by  you  at  least,  as 
"doctrinal."  I  would  submit,  although  with  great  deference,  as  knowing  very 
little  of  the  subject,  whether  the  i7innediate  scope  of  the  decrees  of  the  Roman 
Congregations  is  not  always  rather  disciplina7y  than  doctri7ia/,  and  the  doctrinal 
statements  are  not,  however  solemn  and  important,  still  tech7iically  preambles  and 
obtter  dicta.  If  so,  the  Pope's  identifying  himself  with  the  decree  would  not 
alter  its  essential  character.' 

'  On  the  other  hand  it  must  not  be  forgotten  that  Dr.  Ryder,  like  Newman 
himself,  maintained  that  the  pietas  fidei  should  prompt  to  internal  submission 
beyond  the  sphere  covered  by  strictly  inf:\llible  decisions  of  Rome. 

o  2 


228  LIFE   OF   CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

of  the  Faith  is,  therefore,  true,  is  attacked  by  Father  Ryder. 
It  is,  he  holds,  this  utilitarian  method  which  leads  him  to 
conclusions  which  theologians  whose  methods  are  more 
historical  have  rejected.  In  treating  this  point  in  his  first 
pamphlet  Ryder  falls  back  on  the  tone  of  banter  to  which 
his  unfailing  sense  of  humour  constantly  tempted  him. 

'  After  taunting  his  opponents  with  their  unwillingness 
to  meet  him  Mr.  Ward  proceeds  in  a  masterful  and  lion- 
taming  manner  to  pin  the  reluctant  but  yielding  monsters,  as 
he  thinks,  in  a  corner,  in  this  wise, — Has  not  the  Church  her 
gift  of  infallibility  in  order  to  maintain  the  deposituvi  ?  Yes. 
Can  you  deny  that  certain  philosophical  tenets  logically,  and 
certain  others  practically,  lead  to  heresy?  No.  Must  not 
the  Church  have  power  to  expel  such  errors  from  the  minds 
of  believers,  if  she  is  to  maintain  the  deposituvi}  Yes.  Can 
she  expel  such  errors  unless  she  can  certainly  decide  which 
these  are  ?  No.  Triumphant  conclusion  :  Then  the  Church 
is  infallible  in  all  condemnations  of  such  tenets  as  erroneous 
and  unsound  !  Howls  of  baffled  rage  from  the  minimizing 
Catholics.  .  .  . 

*  I  will,  with  Dr.  Ward's  leave,  substitute  for  the  above, 
the  following  : — If  the  Church  cannot  expel  from  the  minds  of 
the  faithful  the  tenet  that  the  Pope  and  many  of  the  Bishops 
are  actuated  by  ambition  and  other  unworthy  motives,  which 
tenet  has  certainly  in  many  cases  led,  not  logically,  God 
forbid  !  but  practically,  to  both  schism  and  heresy,  she  can- 
not securely  guard  the  dcpositum  ;  but  she  could  only  expel 
such  a  tenet,  by  infallibly  declaring  such  a  case  to  be 
impossible :  therefore,  she  may  infallibly  make  such  a  pro- 
nouncement. So  much  for  the  elasticity  of  the  a  priori 
argument.' 

The  net  result  of  Father  Ryder's  argument  was  to  es- 
tablish only  this — that  Ward's  extreme  view  of  the  authority 
of  Papal  pronouncements,  which  was  becoming  so  prevalent, 
was  not  the  only  orthodox  one. 

Newman's  share  in  the  production  of  Father  Ryder's 
first  pamphlet  is  set  forth  in  the  following  letter  to  Canon 
Walker : 

'May  II,  1867.  .  .  . 

'  You  are  mistaken, — not  indeed  in  thinking  that  I  sub- 
stantially approve  of  and  agree  with  Fr.  Ryder's  Pamphlet, 
but  in  treating  it  as  mine.     The  idea  of  writing  is  solely  his 


PAPAL   INFALLIBILITY  (1867-1868)  229 

— "  Facit  indignatio  versus."  So  were  the  topics,  the  line  of 
thought,  the  illustrations,  and  the  tone  and  temper.  I  agree 
with  your  criticism  on  it — indeed,  I  had  made  the  same 
when  I  saw  it  in  manuscript.  He  is  ever  in  deep  Devon- 
shire lanes — you  never  know  the  lie  of  the  country  from  him 
— he  never  takes  his  reader  up  to  an  eminence,  whence  he 
could  make  a  map  of  it.  This  is  partly  my  fault — partly 
his,  if  it  is  a  fault.  A  fault  it  certainly  is  in  the  composition 
— but  it  is  not  strictly  a  fault  in  determining  on  committing 
such  a  fault  of  composition.  My  own  share  in  it  is  this — that 
I  thought  it  was  good  generalship  for  various  reasons  directly 
to  attack  Ward,  not  in  the  first  place  his  opinions.  I  wanted 
him  to  show  from  Ward's  character  of  mind  how  untrust- 
worthy he  was — also  I  thought  he  would  enlist  the  feelings 
of  oppressed  and  groaning  Catholics,  if  he  presented  himself 
in  the  character  of  a  young,  chivalrous  rebel.  Then  on  his 
side,  since  he  was  proposing,  not  primarily  to  teach  his 
betters  theology,  but  to  answer  Ward,  he  felt  himself  obliged 
to  follow  Ward's  lead  and  to  take  the  very  points  for 
consideration  which  Ward's  publication  suggested. 

'  As  to  his  professing  himself,  not  in  any  true  sense,  but 
in  the  sense  people  sometimes  injuriously  use  the  word,  a 
Galilean,  he  zvisked  to  say  what  he  has  said — and  I  confess 
/  have  a  great  impatience  at  being  obliged  to  trim  my  lan- 
guage by  any  conventional  rule,  to  purse  up  my  mouth,  and 
mince  my  words,  because  it's  the  fashion.  And  as  to  the 
Home  and  Foreign  I  detest  the  persecuting  spirit  which  has 
pursued  it.' 

An  acute  controversy  arose  on  the  appearance  of  Father 
Ryder's  '  Idealism  in  Theology.'  It  raged  in  the  columns  of 
the  Tablet^  and  Newman's  views  were  attacked  by  some  of 
W.  G.  Ward's  supporters.  Mr.  Wallis,  the  editor  of  the 
Tablet,  published  an  article  in  support  of  Father  R)'der  and 
his  great  chief  Newman's  letter  to  Mr.  Wallis  on  the 
occasion  shows  how  deeply  he  felt  on  the  attempt  to  stifle 
the  lawful  liberty  of  thought  among  Catholics  : 

To  Mr.  Wallis. 

'  The  Oratory,  Birmingham  :  April  23/1867. 

'  My  dear  Mr.  Wallis, — .  .  .  I  believe  the  attack  on  me  on 
the  part  of  a  clique  is,  not  simply  against  me  as  me,  but, 
on  the  part  of  those  who  are  the  springs  of  action  in  that 
clique,  it   is   made  on   the  principle  "  Fiat  experimentum  in 


2 to  LIFE   OF  CARDINAL  NEWMAN 


■s 


corpore  sano."  I  have  a  clear  conscience  that,  in  the  works 
of  mine  they  profess  to  criticize,  I  have  said  nothing  which  a 
CathoHc  might  not  say,  though  I  am  not  of  their  way  of 
thinking.  If  then  they  are  strong  enough  to  put  down  me, 
simply  on  the  ground  of  my  not  succumbing  to  the  clique, 
no  one  else  has  a  chance  of  not  being  put  down,  and  a  reign 
of  terror  has  begun,  a  reign  of  denunciation,  secret  tribunals, 
and  moral  assassination.  The  latter  part  of  your  article  was 
directed  against  this  danger — and  it  rejoiced  me  to  find  you 
were  alive  to  it.  As  to  the  attack  on  me  I  shall  outlive  it,  as 
I  have  outlived  other  attacks — but  it  is  not  at  all  easy  to 
break  that  formidable  conspiracy,  which  is  in  action  against 
the  theological  liberty  of  Catholics. 

'J.  H.  N.' 

W.  G.  Ward's  reply  to  Father  Ryder  appeared  in  May. 
Newman  wrote  his  impressions  of  the  state  of  the  controversy 
to  Canon  Walker  : 

'June  s,  1867. 

'  I  agree  in  what  you  say  about  Ward's  answer.  He  picks 
out  from  Fr.  Ryder's  just  what  he  chooses  to  answer— says 
that,  as  to  the  rest,  part  is  irrelevant,  and  part  he  will  answer 
at  his  leisure,  and  then  goes  to  work  on  two  theses,  only  one 
of  which  represents  any  of  the  four  headings  into  which 
Fr.  Ryder  divided  his  pamphlet,  and  he  meets  him  as  re- 
gards that  one,  not  with  theologians  or  theological  arguments, 
but  by  an  argumentum  ad  verecundiam,  drawn  from  the 
Pope's  words.  Fr.  Ryder  has  said  "  the  Pope's  words 
always  need  interpretation  "—and  has  given  authorities  in 
proot  of  this.  Ward  answers  merely  by  repeating  the 
Pope's  words. 

'  I  thought  the  end  of  the  Tablet  review  of  both  pamphlets 
capital,  as  appealing  to  the  commonsense  of  the  world. 
Here  is  Ward  to  his  "extreme  surprise"  discovering  the 
very  truth  after  having  been  for  years  a  Lecturer  in  theology, 
and  now  imposing  it  on  all  under  pain  of  mortal  sin. 

'  Ward's  superiority  lies  in  his  clearness,  and  his  skill  in 
stating  what  he  considers  his  case.' 

The  root  of  the  controversy  was  reached  in  another  letter 
from  Newman  to  Canon  Walker.  W.  G.  Ward  was  attempt- 
ing to  ascribe  to  the  official  letters  of  the  actual  reigning  Pope 
an  import  so  clear  even  to  the  man  in  the  street,  and  such 
decisive  authority,  as  instantly  to  oblige  internal  belief.  His 
method  made  light  of  or  dispensed  with  technical  theological 


PAPAL    INFALLIBILITY    (1867-1S68)  231 

interpretation  by  the  light  of  pronouncements  of  other  Popes 
and  Councils  equally  authoritative,  which  might  limit  the 
apparent  scope  even  of  what  was  most  weighty.  Ward  had 
proposed  to  clinch  the  matters  in  dispute  at  once,  by  asking 
the  Pope  both  as  to  his  meaning  and  his  authority  in  recent 
utterances.  Newman  thus  comments  on  Ward's  general 
view  and  on  this  particular  proposal  : 

'June  17,  1867. 

'  As  to  your  question,  the  definitions  &c.  of  Popes  and 
Councils  are  matter  of  theology.  Who  could  ever  guess 
what  is  condemned,  what  not,  in  a  Thesis  Damnata,  without 
such  a  work  as  Viva  ?  But  7iow,  a  proposition  which  the 
Pope  has  animadverted  on  (he  does  not  seem  formally  to 
have  censured  any  or  many  in  his  time)  comes  to  us  from 
Rome,  not  through  Bishops  and  Theologians,  but  through 
the  public  prints,  in  the  own  correspondence  of  the  Times 
(that  is  where  I  first  saw  the  Syllabus,  and  you  too.)  and 
private  judgment  is  to  give  the  proposition  and  the  Pope's 
act,  its  true  interpretation.  Can  anything  be  more  pre- 
posterous? and  then,  if  we  remonstrate,  we  are  answered, 
"  O  the  words  are  too  plain  for  interpretation  !  "  On  the 
same  principle  we  might  say  when  St.  Paul  says  that 
concupiscence  is  sin,  that  the  words  need  no  interpretation 
from  theologians.  Look  through  the  propositions  condemned 
in  the  Bull  Unigenitus,  and  say,  if  a  common  man  can 
understand  \.\\€\r  point  better  than  many  in  St.  Paul. 

*  Then,  as  to  "  writing  to  know  "  whether  the  Pope  speaks 
ex  cathedra,  and  wJiat  he  says,  surely  this  is  like  asking  a 
Judge  out  of  court  to  declare  the  meaning  of  his  decision. 
Great  authorities  cannot  be  had  up  again,  like  witnesses 
in  a  Jury  box,  to  be  further  questioned  or  cross  examined. 
They  often  do  speak  again,  but  in  their  own  time  and  way.' 

Newman's  most  urgent  protest  was  throughout  against 
Ward's  contention  that  his  view  was  of  obligation  for  a 
Catholic.  Such  narrowing  of  the  terms  of  communion 
appeared  to  him  fatal  to  all  intellectual  life  within  the 
Church,  and  seemed  to  reduce  the  Church  Catholic  to  the 
position  of  a  sect.  Strongly  as  he  held  certain  views  on 
intellectual  grounds,  it  was  for  freedom  among  Catholics  to 
hold  them  rather  than  for  their  truth  that  he  chiefly  fought. 
W.  G.  Ward,  on  the  other  hand,  taking  the  view  that  the  Pope 
himseli  desired  a  full  and  not  a  minimistic  interpretation, 


232  LIFE   OF   CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

and  looking  on  a  Catholic  writer  as  bound  in  loyalty  to 
second  the  Pope's  wishes,  maintained  that  if  a  writer  thought 
it  clear  that  a  decree  did  in  the  Pope's  intention  impose  a 
certain  obligation,  he  was  right  in  saying  so,  even  although 
grave  theologians  thought  otherwise.  Thus  the  ultimate 
point  at  which  such  different  lines  of  policy  began  to  diverge 
was  that  Newman  said  :  "  Say  if  you  like  '  I  think  this  is  the 
true  interpretation,'  but  do  not  impose  it  on  others  as 
obligatory,  if  grave  theologians  think  differently";  while 
Ward  replied  :  "If  I  think  it  is  infallibly  true,  and  part  of 
the  Church's  teaching,  I  think  it  is  obligatory  ;  and  I  say  so  as 
the  Pope  wishes  me  to.  I  do  not  impose  it  on  my  own  ipse 
dixit,  or  assuming  any  authority,  but  I  give  the  reasons 
which  convince  me." 

Two  letters  at  this  time — one  to  W.  G.  Ward  himself, 
and  one  to  Henry  Wilberforce — express  with  some  fulness 
Newman's  state  of  mind  : 

'The  Oratorj',  Birmingham:  gth  May,  1867. 

'  My  dear  Ward, — Father  Ryder  has  shown  me  your 
letter  in  which  you  speak  of  me,  and  though  I  know  that  to 
remark  on  what  you  say  will  be  as  ineffectual  now  in  making 
you  understand  me  as  so  many  times  in  the  last  fifteen  years, 
yet,  at  least  as  a  protest  in  memoriani,  I  will,  on  occasion  of 
this  letter  and  of  your  letter  to  myself,  make  a  fresh  attempt 
to  explain  myself  Let  me  observe  then  that  in  former 
years,  and  nozv,  I  have  considered  the  theological  differences 
between  us  as  unimportant  in  themselves  ;  that  is,  such  as  to 
be  simply  compatible  with  a  reception  both  by  you  and  by 
me  of  the  whole  theological  teaching  of  the  Church  in  the 
widest  sense  of  the  word  teaching  ;  and  again  now,  and  in 
former  years  too,  I  have  considered  one  phenomenon  in  you 
to  be  "  momentous,"  nay,  portentous,  that  you  will  persist  in 
calling  the  said  unimportant,  allowable,  inevitable  differences, 
which  must  occur  between  mind  and  mind,  not  unimportant, 
but  of  great  moment.  In  this  utterly  uncatholic,  not  so 
much  opinion  as  feeling  and  sentiment,  you  have  grown  in 
the  course  of  years,  whereas  I  consider  that  I  remain  myself 
in  the  same  temper  of  forbearance  and  sobriety  which  I  have 
ever  wished  to  cultivate.  Years  ago  you  wrote  me  a  letter 
in  answer  to  one  of  mine,  in  which  you  made  so  much  of 
such  natural  difference  of  opinion  as  exists,  that  I  endorsed 
it  with  the  words  :  "  See  how  this  man  seeketh  a  quarrel 
against  me."  ... 


PAPAL   INFALLIBILITY  (1867-1868)  233 

'  Pardon  me  if  I  say  that  you  are  making  a  Church  within 
a  Church,  as  the  Novatians  of  old  did  within  the  Catholic 
pale,  and  as,  outside  the  Catholic  pale,  the  Evangelicals  of 
the  Establishment.  As  they  talk  of  "vital  religion"  and 
"  vital  doctrines,"  and  will  not  allow  that  their  brethren 
"  know  the  Gospel,"  or  are  Gospel  preachers,  unless  they 
profess  the  small  shibboleths  of  their  own  sect,  so  you  are 
doing  your  best  to  make  a  party  in  the  Catholic  Church,  and 
in  St.  Paul's  words  are  dividing  Christ  by  exalting  your 
opinions  into  dogmas.  ...  I  protest  then  again,  not  against 
your  tenets,  but  against  what  I  must  call  your  schismatical 
spirit.  I  disown  your  intended  praise  of  me,  viz.  that  I  hold 
your  theological  opinions  in  "  the  greatest  aversion,"  and  I 
pray  God  that  I  may  never  denounce,  as  you  do,  what  the 
Church  has  not  denounced.     Bear  with  me. 

'  Yours  affectionately  in  Christ, 

J.  H.  Newman.' 

To  Henry  Wilberforce  he  wrote  thus  in  July  : 

'The  Oratory,  Birmingham  :  July  2ist,  1867 

*  My  dear  H.  W., —  In  all  times  the  debates  in  the 
Schools  have  been  furious,  and  it  is  in  this  way,  of  the  col- 
lision of  flint  and  steel,  that  the  light  of  truth  has  been 
struck  and  elicited.  Controversialists  have  ever  accused  each 
other  of  heresy — and  at  times  Popes  have  interfered,  and 
put  forth  Bulls  to  the  effect  that,  if  anyone  called  another  a 
heretic  out  of  his  own  head,  he  should  lie  under  the  censure 
of  the  Church. 

'  All  this  is  ordinary — what  is  extraordinary  is  that  the 
battle  should  pass  from  the  Schools  (which,  alas,  are  not)  to 
Newspapers  and  Reviews,  and  to  lay  combatants,  with  an 
appeal  to  the  private  judgment  of  all  readers.  This  is  a  de- 
plorable evil — and  from  all  I  have  heard  Ward  has  hindered 
various  people  from  becoming  Catholics  by  his  extreme  views, 
and  I  believe  is  unsettling  the  minds  of  I  can't  tell  how  many 
Catholics.  He  is  free  to  have  his  own  opinion,  but,  when  he 
makes  it  part  of  the  faith,  when  he  stigmatises  those  who  do 
not  follow  him  as  bad  Catholics,  when  he  saves  them  only  on 
the  plea  of  invincible  ignorance,  when  he  declines  to  meet 
those  Catholics  who  differ  from  him  and  prefers  the  company 
of  infidels  to  theirs,  when  he  withdraws  promised  subscrip- 
tions from  missions  on  the  plea  that  the  new  missioncr  to 
whom  the  money  has  to  be  paid  has  not  correct  views  of 
doctrine,  when  the  spontaneous  instinct  of  his  mind  is  rather 
that  Protestants  should  not  be  converted  than  converted  by 


234  LIFE   OF  CARDINAL  NEWMAN 

certain  Catholics  who  differ  from  him,  what  is  he  (as  I  have 
told  him)  but  a  Novatian,  making  a  Church  within  a  Church, 
or  an  Evangelical  preacher,  deciding  that  the  Gospel  is 
preached  here,  and  is  not  there  ? 

'  Why,  it  destroys  our  very  argument  with  Anglicans  : 
"  There  is  nothing  but  confusion,"  we  say,  "  in  your  Church, 
you  don't  know  what  to  believe, — but  with  us  all  is  clear  and 
there  is  no  difference  of  view  about  the  Faith."  Now  he  is 
overturning  this  aboriginal,  unanswerable  note  in  favour  of 
Catholicism, — and  its  consequences,  were  others  to  follow  him, 
would  be  tremendous,  I  say  :  "  Were  others  to  follow  him," 
because  he  is  almost  alone  in  such  miserable  exclusiveness. 
The  Jesuits,  who  agree  with  him,  do  not  insist  on  their  view 
as  the  only  allowable  view  in  the  Catholic  Church.  They 
say  it  is  the  right  view — of  course  they  do — everyone  thinks 
his  own  view  right — but  they  do  not  dream  of  calling  every- 
one who  differ  from  them  material  heretics.  The  only  parallel 
I  can  find,  like  it  in  its  effects^  I  do  not  say  in  its  contro- 
versial circumstances,  is  the  rise  of  Arianism.  How  it  must 
have  perplexed  converts  when  they  saw  the  fury  of  the 
heretical  party,  and  the  persistent  opposition  of  the  Catholic 
believers,  the  eloquent  plausibility  of  the  one,  the  silence  and 
perplexity  of  the  other !  how  must  it  have  unsettled  those 
who  sought  the  Church  for  peace  and  strength  amid  secular 
commotions  like  Constantine,  or  for  truth  and  eternal  life  as 
the  young  Basil  !  It  is  a  comfort  to  us  under  our  present 
sad  trial,  to  be  able  to  believe  that,  though  a  novel  pheno- 
menon in  its  present  shape,  still  it  is  not  altogether  strange 
in  the  history  of  the  Church. 

'  For  myself  I  have  never  taken  any  great  interest  in 
the  question  of  the  limits  and  seat  of  infallibility.  I  was 
converted  simply  because  the  Church  was  to  last  to  the  end, 
and  that  no  communion  answered  to  the  Church  of  the  first 
ages  but  the  Roman  Communion,  both  in  substantial  likeness 
and  in  actual  descent.  And  as  to  faith,  my  great  principle 
was  :  "  Securus  judicat  orbis  terraruin."  So  I  say  now — and 
in  all  these  questions  of  detail  I  say  to  myself,  I  believe 
whatever  the  Church  teaches  as  the  voice  of  God — and  this 
or  that  particular  inclusively,  if  she  teaches  this — it  is  this 
Jides  ijnplicita  which  is  our  comfort  in  these  irritating  times. 
And  I  cannot  go  beyond  this — I  see  arguments  here,  argu- 
ments there — 1  incline  one  way  to-day  another  to-morrow — 
on  the  whole  I  more  than  incline  in  one  direction — but  I 
do  not  dogmatise — and  I  detest  any  dogmatism  where  the 
Church  has  not  clearly  spoken.     And  if  I  am  told  :  "  The 


PAPAL    INFALLIBILITY    (1867-1868)  235 

Church  has  spoken,"  then  I  ask  when  ?  and  if,  instead  of 
having  anything  plain  shown  me,  I  am  put  off  with  a  string 
of  arguments,  or  some  strong  words  of  the  Pope  himself, 
I  consider  this  a  sophistical  evasion,  I  have  only  an  opinion 
at  best  (not  faith)  that  the  Pope  is  infallible,  and  a  string  of 
arguments  can  only  end  in  an  opinion — and  I  comfort  myself 
with  the  principle  :  "  Lex  dubia  non  obligat " — what  is  not 
taught  universally,  what  is  not  believed  universally,  has  no 
claim  on  me — and,  if  it  be  true  after  all  and  divine,  my  faith 
in  it  is  included  in  the  implicita  fides  which  I  have  in  the 
Church.' 

In  1 869  Mr.  Ward  withdrew  a  portion  of  his  previous  theory 
— which  had  claimed  infallibilit}'-  for  all  the  pronounce- 
ments from  which  the  Syllabus  drew  its  list  of  condemned 
errors.  '  I  freely  confess,'  he  wrote,  '  that  when  I  set  forth 
this  thesis  in  some  of  my  writings  I  extended  it  too  far.'  ^ 
And  he  cites  the  opinion  of  grave  theologians  as  his  reason 
for  retracting.  But  this  change  only  confirmed  Newman  in 
his  objection  to  Ward's  course  in  branding  at  the  outset  as 
guilty  of  '  minimism '  and  of  mortal  sin,  those  who  held  a 
view  with  which  he  himself  ultimately  concurred. 

It  was  in  October  1867  that  Mr.  Peter  le  Page  Renouf 
consulted  Newman  as  to  the  advisability  of  writing  on  the 
Honorius  case.  Newman's  counsel  was  in  the  affirmative, 
and  he  did  not  keep  his  opinion  secret.  He  wrote  of  it  to 
Mr.  Walker.  He  wrote  of  it  also  to  Father  Harper,  the 
Jesuit.  His  object  was  to  gain  that  free  discussion  of  its 
bearing  on  the  proposed  definition  which  he  felt  to  be  so 
necessary. 

*  A  friend  of  mine  tells  me,'  he  wrote  to  Father  Harper, 
'  that  he  got  up  the  case  of  Honorius  years  ago,  and  that  he 
believes  it  to  be  inconsistent  with  the  Pope's  infallibility — 
and  he  is  not  unlikely  to  publish  on  the  subject.  I  cannot 
be  sorry  he  should  do  so,  for  it  is  right  that  all  the  facts 
should  be  brought  together.  I  believe  they  will  turn  out  not 
inconsistent  with  his  infallibility — but  I  don't  profess  to  have 
made  a  study  of  Honorius.' 

A  letter  to  Mr.  Renouf  himself,  after  the  publication  of 
the  pamphlet,  indicates  the  line  of  thought  on  which  Newman 
afterwards  laid  so  much  stress  in  the  '  Letter  to  the  Duke  of 

'  Doctrinal  Authority,  p.  462. 


236  LIFE   OF   CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

Norfolk,'  that  an  individual  utterance  of  an  individual  Pope 
must  be  interpreted  in  harmony  with  universally  accepted 
Catholic  theology,  and  so  interpreted  as  not  to  run  counter  to 
its  received  principles. 

'I  read  your  pamphlet  yesterday,'  he  writes  on  June  21, 
1868, '  and  found  it  to  have  the  completeness  and  force  which 
I  had  expected  in  it. 

'  It  is  very  powerful  as  an  argument  and  complete  as  a 
composition.  1  certainly  did  not  know  how  strong  a  case 
could  be  made  out  against  Pope  Honorius.  But  with  all  its 
power,  I  do  not  find  that  it  seriously  interferes  with  my  own 
view  of  Papal  Infallibility :  and  its  completeness  is  in  part 
due  to  your  narrowing  the  compass  of  your  thesis  and  is  in 
part  compromised  by  your  devious  attacks  on  writers  who 
differ  from  you.  .  .  . 

'  I  will  tell  you  why  you  do  not  touch,  or  very  slightly 
touch,  my  own  view  of  the  subject  ;  and  I  suppose  what  I 
hold  is  in  fact  what  many  others  hold  also. 

'  I  hold  the  Pope's  Infallibility,  not  as  a  dogma,  but  as 
theological  opinion  ;  that  is,  not  as  a  certainty,  but  as  a 
probability.  You  have  brought  out  a  grave  difficulty  in  the 
way  of  the  doctrine  ;  that  is,  you  have  diminished  its  proba- 
bility ;  but  you  have  only  diminished  it.  To  my  mind  the 
balance  of  probabilities  is  still  in  favour  of  it.  There  are 
vast  difficulties,  taking  facts  as  they  are,  in  the  way  of  denying 
it.  In  a  question  which  is  anyhow  surrounded  with  difficulties, 
it  is  the  least  of  difficulties  to  maintain  that,  if  we  knew  all 
about  Honorius's  case,  something  would  be  found  to  turn 
up  to  make  it  compatible  with  the  doctrine.  I  recollect 
Dr.  Johnson's  saying,  "  there  are  unanswerable  objections  to 
a  plenum,  and  unanswerable  objections  to  a  vacuum,  yet  one 
or  the  other  must  be  true."    .  .  . 

'Anyhow  the  doctrine  of  Papal  InfallibiHty  must  be 
fenced  round  and  limited  by  conditions.  .  .  . 

'  Mgr.  Sarra  in  his  book  on  Indulgences,  which  Fr.  St. 
John  has  lately  translated,  asserts  in  like  manner  that,  when 
the  Pope  in  certain  forms  of  Indulgence  distinctly  declares 
that  he  remits  guilt,  he  really  does  not  mean  to  do  so,  for 
such  doctrine  would  be  against  the  Catholic  P'aith.  This 
then  is  one  large  condition,  which  all  Ultramontanes  ac- 
quiesce in  and  exercise,  whether  they  will  or  no,  viz.  that, 
when  the  Pope  uses  words  which,  taken  in  their  obvious 
meaning,  are  uncatholic,  he  either  must  not  be  intending  to 
speak  ex  cathedra  or  must  not  mean  what  he  seems  to 
mean.' 


PAPAL   INFALLIBILITY    (1867-1868)  237 

W.  G.  Ward  was  far  too  frank  and  honest  a  contro- 
versialist not  to  face  the  facts  of  the  Honorius  case  when 
they  were  brought  before  him  by  Mr.  Renouf's  pamphlet. 
But  it  was  significant  that  he  had  formulated  his  theory 
without  expressly  allowing  for  them.  He  now  wrote  in  the 
Dtiblin  Review  dealing  with  the  case  fully,  and  maintaining 
that  though  Honorius  did  teach,  and  teach  officially  in  his 
letter  to  Sergius,  and  though  his  teaching  did  undoubtedly 
countenance  heresy,  he  was  speaking  not  ex  cathedra  as 
Universal  doctor,  but  only  as  the  official  Doctrinal  ruler 
{Gubernator  Doctrinalis).  This  admission,  however,  raised 
the  question,  How  can  it  be  at  once  determined  in  which  of 
these  two  capacities  a  Pope's  official  pronouncement  on  doc- 
trinal matters  is  made  ?  Here  was  a  matter  which  called  for 
very  careful  investigation  on  the  part  of  theologians. 

It  was  easy  to  decide  after  the  event  that  an  official  letter 
from  a  Pope  purporting  to  give  doctrinal  guidance,  which  was 
condemned  by  at  least  three  subsequent  Popes  in  Council  as 
countenancing  heresy,  could  not  have  been  a  decision  ex 
cathedra.  But  how  about  its  determination  by  those  who 
lived  at  the  time?  How  would  Mr.  Ward's  advocacy  of  an 
uncritical  following  of  the  Pope's  guidance  have  operated  ? 
As  it  was,  one  of  the  ablest  defenders  of  Honorius  has  left  it 
on  record  that  '  the  continual  resistance  to  the  true  doctrine 
had  been  built  on  the  authority  of  Honorius,'  and  that  'without 
his  important  letters  in  all  probability  no  Monothelite  troubles 
would  have  disturbed  the  pages  of  history.'  ^  Pope  Agatho 
distinguished  the  indefectible  faith  of  Peter  from  the  erroneous 
teaching  which  had  been  countenanced  by  the  reigning  Pope 
Honorius.  Unless  theologians  vigilantly  kept  guard  on  this 
distinction,  what  absolute  guarantee  was  there  against  a  re- 
petition of  the  prevalence  of  false  doctrine  under  Pontifical 
guidance?  How  was  it  consistent  to  brand  as  *  minimising  ' 
Catholics  those  who  held  that  the  Papal  letter  of  1863  to  the 
Archbishop  of  Munich  was  sent  by  the  Pope  as  doctrinal 
ruler,  and  not  as  an  infallible  utterance,  when  in  the  case  of 
the  letter  to  the  Patriarch  Sergius  such  a  verdict  had  been 
passed  by  the  Roman  See  itself? 

The  events  and  controversies  of  the  succeeding  years — 
'  Dom  Chapman,  O.S.B.,  in  the  Dublin  Review,  No.  280,  p.  69. 


238  LIFE   OF   CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

from  1867  to  1870 — showed  more  and  more  clearly  that  the 
root  question  at  issue  between  Father  Ryder  and  Mr.  Ward 
was  not  the  'extent  of  infallibility' — the  initial  subject  of 
the  discussion — but  rather  the  functions  of  active  theo- 
logical thought  in  appraising  precisely  what  was  infallibly 
determined. 

The  differences  between  the  school  of  Newman,  Ryder, 
and  Dupanloup,  and  the  school  represented  by  the  Dublin 
Review  and  the  Univers,  had  been  manifest  at  the  time  of  the 
appearance  of  the  Syllabus  two  years  earlier.  They  were 
also  apparent  later  on  when  the  opportuneness  of  the 
definition  of  Papal  Infallibility  was  debated. 

Newman  had  already  in  the  '  Apologia'  forestalled  a  good 
many  of  the  questions  which  W.  G.  Ward  discussed  in  the 
Dublin  Review.  There,  as  also  in  the  letter  to  Mr.  Ornsby 
on  the  same  subject,  already  cited,  he  had  pointed  out  that, 
in  the  palmy  days  of  the  Church's  theology,  the  difficult 
intellectual  problems  which  arose,  as  the  University  pro- 
fessors attempted  to  reconcile  the  truths  of  Revelation  with 
the  claims  of  newly  emerging  speculations  or  conclusions  of 
the  reason,  had  been  thoroughly  and  exhaustively  debated  in 
the  schools  ;  and  that  when  the  Holy  See  in  the  end  perhaps 
intervened  it  was  to  ratify  as  orthodox  the  conclusion  already 
reached  by  reason.  The  Holy  See  was  using  the  '  means 
supplied  by  Providence,'  of  which  the  Vatican  Decree  Pastot 
Aeternus  did  eventually  speak,  to  assist  it  in  making  its  deci- 
sions accurate,  and  in  so  expressing  them  as  to  accord  with 
the  many  existing  theological  authorities  and  past  decisions 
of  Councils  and  Popes.  Some  such  means  of  ascertaining  the 
truth  was,  of  course,  necessary  for  the  Holy  See  in  the  absence 
of  direct  inspiration.  The  third  alternative  was  that  very 
arbitrariness  and  absolutism  in  its  decisions,  with  which  Pro- 
testants charge  the  Papacy,  and  which  Catholics  have  ever 
repudiated  as  inconsistent  with  the  traditions  of  the  Church. 
What  Newman  evidently  dreaded  was,  lest  the  destruction  of 
the  theological  schools,  which  he  constantly  deplored,  coupled 
with  the  spread  of  Ward's  theory  which  made  light  of  even 
the  theological  auxilia  which  were  still  available,  might  lead 
to  decisions  of  authority  not  at  all  adequate  to  the  complexity 
and  difficulty  of  the  questions  raised,  nor  taking  full  account 


PAPAL   INFALLIBILITY   (1S67-186S)  239 

of  the  already  existing  theological  decisions  and  authoritative 
dicta   bearing  on  the  same  subjects.     He  remembered  that 
even  in  infallible  decisions,  while  immunity  from  error  was 
guaranteed  by  Providence,  their  adequacy  and  luminousness 
was  held  by  theologians  to  vary  according  to  the  quality  of  the 
minds  engaged  in  their  preparation.^    Then  there  were  in  ad- 
dition weighty  decisions  of  Popes  or  Roman  Congregations  in 
which  there  was  not  held  to  be  any  guarantee  of  immunity 
from  error.       If  the  '  political  and  ultra-devotional  party  '  of 
Louis  Veuillot  and  his  friends  were  reinforced  by  theologians 
like  Ward  and  Father  Schrader,  and  if  Rome,  even  without 
formally  sanctioning   their   theory,  so    far   gave    ear   to   its 
promoters   as    to    issue    decisions   without    adequate   theo- 
logical   preparation,    disastrous    consequences   would    ensue. 
Authority    might   be    identified    in    the    public    mind    with 
the  'violent  ultra  party  which  exalts  opinions  into  dogmas 
and  has  at  heart  principally  the  destruction  of  every  school 
of  thought  but  its  own.'  ^     The  absence  of  sufficient  regard 
for   intellectual  interests — not   unnatural  in    measures  insti- 
gated by  men  like  M.  Veuillot,  for  whom  these  interests  had 
practically  no  existence — might  make  faith  and  loyalty  ex- 
cessively difficult  for  thinking  minds.     Really  effective  apolo- 
getic might  become  almost  impossible.     The  ablest  Catholics 
indeed    would    make    privately  the    necessary  qualifications. 
But   to    express  them    publicly  might  be    to  incur   charges 
of  unorthodoxy  from  the   Univcrs   from  which   they  might 
naturally  shrink.     All  this  would,  no  doubt,  be  entirely  out- 
side the  intention    of   the  Holy    See,  but  nevertheless    the 
forces  at  work  might  bring  about  these  unfortunate  conse- 
quences.    The   destruction    of  the    theological    schools    had 
diminished  the  normal  influence  of  intellectual  interests  in  the 
Church.     The  '  political  and  ultra-devotional  party'  was   un- 
duly powerful.     This  party  had  won  its  influence  by  loyalty 
to  the  Holy  See — devoted  as  well  as  militant — yet  that  in- 
fluence might  be  most  unfortunate  in  matters  whose  nature 
and  importance  its  members  failed  to  understand.    Newman's 
great  fear,  in  the  years  1866-70,  during  which  the  proposed 
definition  was  canvassed,  seems  to  have  been  that  by  its  terms 
it    might    appear    to   the    world    at    large  to   sanction    such 
'  See  Letter  to  Duke  of  Norfolk,  p.  307.  -  Apologia,  p.  260. 


240  LIFE   OF  CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

excesses  as  those  of  M.  Louis  Veuillot,  novelties  which  were 
at  variance  with  traditional  Catholic  theology. 

He  wrote  to  Canon  Walker  urging  him,  as  a  hereditary 
Catholic,  to  testify  publicly  to  the  theology  he  had  learnt 
in  his  boyhood,  as  contrasted  with  the  innovations  of 
M.  Veuillot  and  Father  Schrader  : 

♦November  lo,   1867. 

'  Thank  you  for  your  letters,  which  I  was  very  glad  to 
receive.  I  will  tell  you  what  they  brought  home  to  my  mind, 
what  indeed  I  have  once  or  twice  thought  of  before — that  you 
should  really  write  a  pamphlet  bearing  witness  to  the  views 
taught  to  Catholics  when  you  were  young.  No  one  can  do  it 
but  one  who  can  speak  as  an  authoritative  witness,  and  such 
you  would  be.  There  are  very  few  who  could  do  it  but  you, 
— and  it  is  really  most  necessary.  Here  is  the  Archbishop  in 
a  Pastoral  or  Pamphlet  putting  out  extreme  views — getting 
it  read  to  the  Pope,  and  circulating  that  the  Pope  approved  of 
it — all  with  a  view  of  anticipating  and  practising  upon  the 
judgments  of  the  Bishops,  when  they  meet  for  a  General 
Council.  Of  course  what  the  General  Council  speaks 
is  the  word  of  God — but  still  we  may  well  feel  indignant 
at  the  intrigue,  trickery,  and  imperiousness  which  is  the 
human  side  of  its  history — and  it  seems  a  dereliction  of 
duty  not  to  do  one's  part  to  meet  them.  You  are  one  of 
the  few  persons  who  can  give  an  effective  testimony,  and  I 
hope  you  will.  And  now  having  "  liberated  my  mind,"  and 
feeling  relieved  by  having  done  so,  I  have  nothing  to  do 
but  to  subscribe  myself 

'  Very  sincerely  yours, 

J.  H.  N.' 

However,  while  these  anxieties  weighed  heavily  and  in- 
creasingly on  Newman  until  after  the  Vatican  Council,  he  had 
in  1868,  as  we  have  already  seen,  a  great  encouragement  in 
two  things.  First,  the  Pope,  after  having  his  works  examined 
and  approved,  had  directed  that  he  should  be  asked  to  help  in 
preparing  the  material  for  the  Council.  This  was  a  vindica- 
tion of  his  orthodoxy,  and  it  gave  him  a  clear  locus  standi  in 
writing  his  opinion  freely  as  to  the  difficulties  attaching  to  some 
of  the  proposed  canons  and  definitions.  Secondly,  he  had  at 
this  time  constant  and  widespread  testimony  to  his  influence, 
which  he  now  felt  to  be  such  that  it  might  greatly  help  in 
the  objects  he  had  at  heart.  The  entry  in  his  journal  in 
November  1868  opens  with  a  note  almost  of  triumph  : 


PAPAL   INFALLIBILITY   (1867-1868)  241 

'  Nov.  30th,  1868. 

'  HcBc  inutatio  dextrce  Excelsi.  I  am  too  old  to  feel  much 
pleasure  or  at  least  to  realise  that  I  do — but  certainly  I  hav^e 
abundant  cause  to  bless  and  praise  God  for  the  wonderful 
change  that  has  taken  place  in  men's  estimation  of  me,  that 
is,  if  I  can  make  that  change  subservient  to  any  good  purpose. 
An  Anglican  correspondent  writes  to  me"  You  occupy  a  very 
unique  position  in  England.  There  is  no  other  man  whose 
mere  word  would  be  more  readily  taken  without  the  necessity 
of  having  it  confirmed  by  any  other  testimony.  I  do  not 
know  any  revolution  of  public  feeling  so  complete  as  this." 

'As  far  as  this  is  a  correct  statement,  I  think  the  fact 
arises  from  the  feeling  in  the  public  mind  that  for  many,  for 
20  years,  I  have  been  unfairly  dealt  with.  It  is  a  generous 
feeling  desirous  of  making  amends.  Thus  I  account  for 
the  great  considerateness  which  the  Spectator,  the  Saturday 
Review,  nay  the  Pall  Mall,  and  the  Anglican  Guardian  and 
other  Anglican  newspapers  show  me.  But  it  is  showing 
itself  still  more  in  facts — Copeland  has  lately  heard  from 
Rivingtons  that  the  first  volume  of  the  new  Edition  of  my 
Parochial  Sermons,  published  in  May,  has  already,  in  half  a 
year,  sold  to  the  number  of  3500  copies — and  that  this  num- 
ber includes  an  "  extensive  sale  "  among  Dissenters. — Another 
remarkable  fact  is  that  Sir  F.  Doyle,  Poetry  Professor  at 
Oxford,  is  paying  me  the  extraordinary  compliment  of  giving 
a  Public  Lecture  on  my  "  Dream  of  Gerontius." 

'  Then  on  the  other  hand,  whereas  the  Pope  directed  that 
I  should  be  asked  to  go  to  Rome  to  take  part  in  preparing 
matters  for  the  Council,  the  Catholic  papers,  which  have  not 
hitherto  spoken  well  of  me,  say  that  it  has  been  a  special 
invitation,  the  first  and  hitherto  only  one  made  to  an}-  Priest 
in  England,  Scotland,  or  Ireland  &c.  &c. 

*  Per  contra —  I  shall  be  selling  out  my  newly  acquired  stock 
of  credit  in  these  Catholic  circles,  if  I  publish  this  letter  on 
Renoufs  pamphlet  upon  Honorius,  as  I  am  thinking  of  doing. 

'  1  have  nothing  particular  to  remark  on  the  above — but 
record  it,  as  I  would  the  risings  and  fallings  of  the  weather 
glass.  I  am  too  old  not  to  feel  keenly  that  unless  I  can  do 
something  for  God  by  means  of  the  good  words  which  men 
give  me,  such  praise  is  mere  chaff,  and  will  be  whirled  away 
by  the  wind  some  fine  morning,  leaving  nothing  behind  it. 

'  Another  very  encouraging  fact  is,  that,  in  spite  of  opposi- 
tion and  criticism,  Ignatius's  pamphlets  certain!}'  have  done 
a  work,  and  have  thrown  back  the  v^pis  opdicoi'  Ki'(i)8u\iov,ihc 
arrogant  ipse  dixits  of  various  persons  who  would  crush  every 
opinion  in  theology  which  is  not  theirs.' 

VOL.  IL  R 


CHAPTER   XXVIII 

'THE   GRAMMAR   OF   ASSEMT  '    (187O) 

During  the  period  we  have  been  reviewing,  from  1866  to 
1868,  in  which  the  contest  on  the  InfalHbility  of  the  Papacy 
was  so  keen,  Newman  was  engaged  in  writing  his  '  Essay  in 
Aid  of  a  Grammar  of  Assent.'  For  years,  as  we  have  seen, 
he  had  been  urged  by  W.  G.  Ward  to  write  on  Faith 
and  Reason — a  work  which  should  be  in  some  sense  a 
sequel  to  the  Oxford  University  Sermons  '  On  the  Theory  of 
Religious  Belief  He  had  again  and  again  taken  notes  for 
it ;  and  the  subject  was  to  have  been  dealt  with  in  the  '  Pro- 
legomena' to  the  ill-fated  translation  of  the  Scriptures.  His 
keen  realisation  of  the  sceptical  standpoint,  and  of  the 
fallacy  of  Catholic  faith  in  the  eyes  of  the  sceptic,  is  vividly 
presented  in  the  following  memorandum  of  i860  on  'The 
Fluctuations  of  Human  Opinion  '  : 

'  (i)  We  cannot  get  beyond  a  judgment  such  that  it  denies 
itself  soon  and  melts  away  into  another — nothing  fixed  and 
stable. 

'  (2)  Hence  what  does  Catholicism  do  but  arbitrarily  fix 
what  is  not  fixed,  and  perpetuate  by  an  unnatural  and 
strained  force  what  else  would  be  transitory.  It  assumes 
and  wills  that  this  or  that  should  be  true  which  is  not  true  to 
the  mind  except  for  a  time  or  more  than  something  else. 

'  (3)  ^V^  cannot  get  beyond  a  certain  degree  of  probability 
about  anything,  but  Catholicism  enforces  a  certainty  greater 
than  Mathematics, 

'  (4)  and  making  it  a  sin  to  doubt,  artificially  prolongs  an 
opinion.  It  is  but  an  opinion  that  the  Church  is  infallible, 
but  we  commit  a  man  to  it  and  make  it  a  sin  to  doubt  it.  If 
he  argued  himself  into  it,  why  may  he  not  argue  himself  out 
of  it?  If  it  is  a  conclusion  from  premisses  at  first  why  not 
always  ? 

'  (5)  How  can  there  be  a  revelation  ;  for  the  certainty  of  it 
must  depend  on  uncertain  premisses  ?  Such  seems  the  state  of 
human  nature.    In  this  state  of  things  what  does  Catholicism 


'THE   GRAMMAR   OF   ASSENT'   (1870)  243 

do  but  unnaturally  prolong  a  particular  state  of  opinion  and 
pretend  to  a  certainty  which  is  impossible  ? ' 

This  plausible  view  of  the  inherent  uncertainty  of  religious 
opinions  had  been  considered  by  him  both  at  Oxford  (in  the 
University  Sermons)  and  at  Dublin  in  a  lecture  already  cited 
in  these  pages.'  But  he  felt  that  he  had  more  to  say  on  the 
subject,  and  had  several  times  turned  his  mind  to  it. 

After  the  abandonment  of  the  '  Prolegomena  '  he  had  again 
contemplated  a  book  on  the  same  theme,  but  on  somewhat 
different  lines — more  distinctly  as  an  account  of  the  basis 
on  which  minds  unacquainted  with  scientific  theology  or 
philosophy  could  and  did  rest  their  religious  belief  This 
particular  plan  had  been  mentioned  in  i860  in  a  letter  to 
Dr.  Meynell,  Professor  of  Philosophy  at  Oscott.  Dr.  Meynell 
had  read  Newman's  University  Sermons  and  referred  in  a 
letter  to  his  keen  appreciation  of  their  value.  Newman  thus 
replied  to  him  : 

*  The  Oratory,  Birmingham  :  Jan.  23r(l,  '60. 

'  My  dear  Dr.  Meynell, — Your  letter  has  given  me  mo.st 
exceeding  pleasure.  First,  because  you  really  have  taken 
the  trouble  to  read  my  book  through,  when  I  could  not  have 
fancied  you  would  have  done  more  than  read  parts.  Next, 
because  you  corroborate  my  own  impression,  that  what 
Mr.  Mansel  has  said  I  have  said  before  him.  And  thirdly 
because  you  think  I  have  avoided  many  of  his  errors. 

'  Since  I  sent  it  you  I  have  had  some  correspondence  with 
a  dear  old  Protestant  friend,  who  wished  me  to  write  a  book, 
on  what  would  really  be  the  same  subject  expanded — so  now 
I  am  more  inclined  to  do  something  or  other  on  the  subject, 
but  less  certain  whether  or  not  to  re-issuc  the  Sermons,  If  I 
wrote  a  new  work,  it  would  be  on  "  the  popular,  practical,  and 
personal  evidence  of  Christianity  " — i.e.  as  contrasted  to  the 
scientific,  and  its  object  would  be  to  show  that  a  given 
individual,  high  or  low,  has  as  much  right  (has  as  real  rational 
grounds)  to  be  certain,  as  a  learned  theologian  who  knows 
the  scientific  evidence. 

*  Your  opinion  of  my  sermons  is  the  second  favourable 
judgment  that  I  have  had  —some  years  ago  some  priests  in 
France  translated  nine  of  them  into  French. 

'  Yours  very  sincerely 

John  H.  New.man, 

of  the  Oratory.' 
'  See  Vol.  I.  p.  393. 


R  2 


244  LIFE   OF  CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

Let  it  be  remembered  that  the  ordinary  reply  in  the 
current  school  treatises  to  the  question,  '  How  can  the 
uneducated  man  have  sufficient  reason  for  belief  in  Chris- 
tianity ? '  was  that  such  a  one  has  reasons  sufficient  to  satisfy 
his  own  limited  intellect.  This  clearly  left  a  difficulty  un- 
solved. For  a  fallacious  argument  might  satisfy  an  un- 
critical and  uneducated  mind.  In  the  University  Sermon  on 
'  Wisdom  as  contrasted  with  Faith  and  Bigotry '  Newman 
had  met  the  difficulty  by  the  suggestion  that  the  Faith  of  the 
simple  involved  a  semi-conscious  share  in  the  Wisdom  of  the 
Church  as  a  whole.  The  single-hearted  love  of  truth  secured 
some  participation  in  a  deeper  intellectual  and  philosophical 
system  and  process  of  proof  than  the  individual  mind  could 
explicitly  formulate  or  appreciate.  In  the  '  Essay  on  Assent ' 
he  developed  a  part  only  of  this  line  of  thought.  He 
analysed  the  large  part  played  in  the  formation  of  convic- 
tions by  'implicit' — or  'subconscious'  reasoning, as  it  after- 
wards came  to  be  called.  An  uneducated  man  '  with  a  heart 
and  an  eye  for  truth  '  might  reason  well — though  the  process 
could  not  be  formally  and  consciously  analysed  by  him.  He 
would  come  to  a  right  conclusion,  though  his  expressed  argu- 
ments might  be  inadequate  or  faulty.  There  were,  moreover, 
grounds  of  conviction  too  personal  to  be  adequately  expressed. 
These  played  a  large  part  in  the  religious  convictions  of 
educated  and  uneducated  alike.  Yet  from  their  nature  they 
could  not  be  fully  set  forth  in  formal  treatises.  This  line  of 
thought  had  been  already  sketched  in  the  University  Sermon, 
'Explicit  and  Implicit  Reason.'  The  '  Essay  on  Assent'  in 
the  end  did  not,  then,  confine  itself  to  an  examination  of 
the  grounds  for  faijh  accessible  to  the  uneducated.  It  dealt 
rather  with  those!  personal  grounds  of  belief  which  the 
educated  and  uneaucated  may  have  in  common — grounds 
largely  independent  of  technical  studies  and  arguments 
which  could  be  appreciated  only  by  the  learned  few.  And  it 
dwelt  on  the  depth  and  importance  of  these  informal  and 
personal  proofs. 

Newman  found  a  difficulty  in  some  quarters  in  making  the 
necessity  of  his  work — or  its  very  object — understood.  Even 
among  educated  Catholics  there  were  many  who  learnt  more 
or  less  mechanically  the  recognised  credentials  of  the  Church 


'THE   GRAMMAR    OF   ASSENT'    (1870)  245 

as  well  as  its  doctrines.  They  did  not  really  weigh  the 
adequacy  of  the  proofs,  which  they  accepted  on  the  word 
of  that  Church  whose  authority  the  proofs  themselves  pro- 
fessed to  establish.  To  reflect  on  the  vicious  circle  which 
this  involved  was  in  their  eyes  to  admit  a  doubt  against 
Faith.  This  was  an  attitude  quite  at  variance  with  the 
teaching  of  the  best  theologians,  but  in  fact  it  was  widely 
prevalent.  And  W.  G.  Ward  and  Newman,  who  were  on 
this  subject  in  close  sympathy,  had  found  even  so  able  a 
man  as  Cardinal  Wiseman  not  wholly  free  from  the  con- 
fusion of  thought  which  it  involved.  This  became  apparent 
in  a  conversation  between  the  three  men  in  1859,  and 
Newman  clinched  the  matter  and  somewhat  staggered  the 
Cardinal  with  the  question,  '  Then  pray,  your  Eminence, 
what  is  the  difference  between  Faith  and  Prejudice?' 

As  Catholics  came  to  be  more  and  more  in  contact  with 
the  modern  world  and  with  able  men  who  did  not  accept 
Christianity,  and  learnt  thus  to  realise  the  force  of  objections 
to  their  belief,  such  a  way  of  looking  at  the  matter  must 
clearly  afford  a  very  insecure  basis  for  its  defence. 

While  the  subject  had,  as  we  have  seen,  been  in  Newman's 
mind  for  years,  the  decisive  influence  leading  him  to  write  on 
the  lines  finally  chosen  came  with  dramatic  suddenness,  and 
is  described  in  a  letter  to  Mr.  Aubrey  de  Vere,  written  in 
August  1870,  immediately  after  the  publication  of  his  'Essay' : 

'  As  to  my  Essay  on  Assent,'  he  wrote,  'it  is  on  a  subject 
which  has  teazed  me  for  these  twenty  or  thirty  years.  I  felt 
I  had  something  to  say  upon  it,  yet,  whenever  I  attempted,  the 
sight  I  saw  vanished,  plunged  into  a  thicket,  curled  itself  up 
like  a  hedgehog,  or  changed  colours  like  a  chameleon.  I 
have  a  succession  of  commencements,  perhaps  a  dozen,  each 
different  from  the  other,  and  in  a  different  year,  which  came 
to  nothing.  At  last,  four  years  ago,  when  I  was  up  at  Glion 
over  the  Lake  of  Geneva,  a  thought  came  into  my  head  as 
the  clue,  the  "  Open  Sesame,"  of  the  whole  subject,  and  I  at 
once  wrote  it  down,  and  I  pursued  it  about  the  Lake  of 
Lucerne.  Then  when  I  came  home  I  began  in  earnest,  and 
have  slowly  got  through  it.' 

The  thought  that  came  to  him  at  Glion  was,  as  he  says  in 
a  '  Memorandum  '  to  be  cited  shortly,  that  Certitude  is  a  form 
of  Assent,  and  that  to  treat  of  the  psychology  of  Assent  as 


246  LIFE   OF  CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

distinguished  from  inference  was  the  key  to  his  book.  The 
exposition  of  this  view  of  the  case  proved  to  be  an  important 
part  of  his  work,  but  perhaps  not  the  most  important.  Assent 
is  treated  in  his  book  as  being  in  its  nature  unconditional. 
The  act  of  assent  to  a  new  conclusion  is  a  definite  step  taken 
by  the  mind  in  response  to  many  rational  influences,  latent 
as  well  as  conscious,  and  not  as  the  mere  mechanical  or 
passive  recognition  then  and  there  of  an  inference  from 
premisses.  This  is  perhaps  his  newest  and  subtlest  contri- 
bution to  the  problem.  But  it  was  not  probably  that  which 
was  most  helpful  to  the  average  reader.  The  doctrine  of 
the  'illative  sense'  has  become  by  general  consent  the  most 
characteristic  lesson  taught  by  the  '  Essay.'  This  doctrine 
it  was  that  met  one  special  philosophical  difficulty  which 
prompted  him  to  write. 

I  have  said  above  that  one  avowed  object  of  the  '  Essay 
on  Assent '  was  to  show  that  simple  and  uneducated  minds 
could  have  rational  grounds  for  belief  in  Christianity  without 
knowledge  of  its  scientific  evidences.     But  the  other  lacuna 
in  Christian  apologetic,  to  fill  which  the   book  was  written^ 
was    that    expressed    in    the    letter    to  Mr.    Capes    already 
cited.'     He  desired  to  view  the  unbeliever's  attitude  truly. 
He    treated    it    as    being   due    to    the    assumption    of    false 
first   principles.     This   account  did   not  get   rid   of  the  un- 
believer's responsibility,  but  it  left  intact  his  sincerity.     Both 
his  own  cast  of  mind   and   his  familiar  intimacy  with  such 
earnest  doubters  as  William  Froude,  made  him  feel  how  little 
cogent  for  the  age  to  come,  when  believer  and  doubter  must 
be  in  daily  intercourse,  was  a  line  of  apologetic  which  im- 
plied that  there  must  be  conscious  insincerity  in  the  doubter 
or  Agnostic. 

The  supposition  that  the  case  for  Christianity  could  be 
drawn  up  with  the  completeness  of  a  barrister's  brief,  and 
that  as  so  stated  it  was  in  itself  conclusive  to  any  honest 
mind,  was  false  to  obvious  facts.  Unbelievers  were  not  as  a 
rule  hie  et  nunc  dishonest  men  whose  bad  dispositions  held 
them  back  from  recognising  a  clearly  convincing  proof  of 
Christianity.  And  one  reason  why  this  fact  was  not  ade- 
quately   recognised    among    Catholic   theologians    was   that 

^  See  Vol.  I.  pp.  244,  247. 


'THE   GRAMMAR    OF   ASSENT'    (1S70)  247 

believer  and  unbeliever  lived  very  largely  apart  and  the  un- 
believer's mind  was  not  familiarly  known  by  the  believer. 
The  position  maintained  by  Christian  apologists  stamped 
them  in  the  eyes  of  the  mass  of  strenuous  and  able  thinkers 
on  religion  as  sectarian  and  bigoted.  While  not  disputing 
the  rccocrnised  teachincr  in  the  Catholic  schools  that  the 
reasons  ascertainable  on  behalf  of  the  Christian  revelation 
were  such  as  should  lead  '  a  prudent  man '  to  believe,  and  to 
exclude  a  '  prudent '  doubt,  Newman  set  himself  to  examine 
the  nature  of  the  evidence  and  the  conditions  for  its  appre- 
hension :  and  unbelief  appears  in  his  pages  not  as  due  to 
conscious  dishonesty,  but  as  resulting  from  an  attitude  which 
precludes  full  knowledge  of  the  evidence.  His  work  included 
an  analysis  of  the  mind  of  believer  and  unbeliever  and  of  the 
differences  between  them.  He  drew  attention  to  the  subtle 
personal  appreciation  on  the  part  of  the  religious  mind,  which 
made  it  find  so  much  more  evidence  for  Christianity  in  the 
acknowledged  facts  of  its  history  than  the  irreligious  mind 
could  see.  The  general  outcome  of  this  portion  of  the  book 
was  to  show  the  important  place  held  by  antecedent  con- 
ditions among  the  reasons  convincing  the  believer.  And 
among  these  conditions  were  the  experiences  and  action  of 
the  individual  mind.  The  religious  mind  instinctively  and  by 
degrees  accumulated  evidences  of  which  the  irreligious  mind 
— reasoning  on  different  principles — remained  wholly  or 
partially  unaware.  The  action  of  the  will  and  of  moral  dis- 
positions was  gradual.  Moral  defect  must  in  the  long  run 
lead  the  mind  to  miss  the  deepest  grounds  of  belief  But 
this  was  something  very  different  from  insincerity.  To  quote 
a  sentence  written  by  Newman  on  the  subject  to  the  present 
writer,  '  The  religious  mind  sees  much  which  is  invisible  to 
the  irreligious  mind.  They  have  not  the  same  evidence  before 
them.' 

Newman  did  not  deny  that  one  reasoned  rightly,  the 
other  wrongly.  He  did  not  deny  that  there  might  be 
responsibility  for  the  false  principles  which  led  to  unbelief — 
for  the  failure  of  the  unbeliever  to  recognise  the  deeper 
principles  which  a  Christian  thinker  adopts  (as  he  phrased  it 
a  little  later)  '  under  the  happy  guidance  of  the  moral  sense.' 
But  he  did  away  with  the  old  contrast,  to  which  Protestants 


248  LIFE   OF   CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

as  well  as  Catholics  had  long  been  accustomed,  between 
believer  and  unbeliever  as  two  men  looking  at  and  appre- 
hending precisely  the  same  evidence,  which  was  so  obviously 
cogent  that  only  a  man  whose  will  was  here  and  now 
perverse  could  disbelieve.  He  substituted  a  far  subtler 
analysis  in  which  circumstances  and  education  played  their 
part  in  the  power  of  mental  vision  on  the  particular  subject ; 
in  which  the  appreciation  of  reasons  was  personal,  and 
gradual ;  religious  earnestness  and  true  principles  being 
necessary  not  only  to  the  acceptance  of  the  reasoning  for 
Christianity,  but  to  its  adequate  apprehension. 

The  book  was  actually  begun  amid  the  hills  of  Switzer- 
land, where  he  was  travelling  with  Ambrose  St.  John  in 
August  1866. 

The  negotiations  concerning  Oxford  interrupted  his  work. 
But  it  was  resumed  in  the  summer  of  1867.  In  the  summer 
of  1868  the  first  draft  was  nearly  finished.  Henry  Wilbcr- 
force  at  this  time  consulted  him  on  a  controversy  between 
two  of  his  acquaintance,  a  Catholic  and  a  Freethinker,  on  the 
grounds  of  religious  belief.  This  led  Newman,  who  was  full 
of  his  subject,  to  write  at  length  to  his  friend  upon  his 
forthcoming  work  : 

*  As  to  what  I  have  done,  I  cannot  tell  if  it  is  a  Truism, 
a  Paradox,  or  a  Mare's  nest.  Since  it  certainly  may  be  any 
one  of  the  three,  the  chance  of  its  being  anything  better  is 
not  encouraging.  I  consider  there  is  no  such  thing  as  a 
perfect  logical  demonstration  ;  there  is  always  a  margin  of 
objection  even  in  Mathematics,  except  in  the  case  of  short 
proofs,  as  the  propositions  of  Euclid.  Yet  on  the  other  hand 
it  is  a  paradox  to  say  there  is  not  such  a  state  of  mind  as 
certitude.  It  is  as  well  ascertained  a  state  of  mind,  as  doubt — 
to  say  that  such  a  phenomenon  in  the  human  mind  is  a  mere 
extravagance  or  weakness  is  a  monstrous  assertion  which  I 
cannot  swallow.  Of  course  there  may  be  abuses  and  mistakes 
in  particular  cases  of  certitude,  but  that  is  another  matter. 
It  is  a  laiv  of  ournahire,  then,  that  we  are  certain  on  premisses 
which  do  not  reach  demonstration.  This  seems  to  me 
undeniable.  Then  what  is  the  faculty  (since  it  is  not  the 
logical  Dictum  de  omni  et  nullo)  which  enables  us  to  be 
certain,  to  have  the  state  of  mind  called  certitude,  though  the 
syllogism  before  us  is  not  according  to  the  strict  rules  of 
Barbara  ?      I    think    it    is    <pp6v7]ais   which    tells    when    to 


'THE   GRAMMAR    OF   ASSENT'   (1870)  249 

discard  the  logical  imperfection  and  to  assent  to  the  con- 
clusion which  ought  to  be  drawn  in  order  to  demonstration 
but  is  not  quite.  No  syllogism  can  prove  to  me  that 
Nature  is  uniform— but  the  argument  is  so  strong,  though 
not  demonstrative,  that  I  should  not  be  (f)p6vi/xos  but  a  fool, 
to  doubt.  Now  the  (hpovrjcns  may  be  easily  biassed  by  our 
wishes,  by  our  will.  This  is  even  the  case  in  Mathematics 
and  Physico-mathematics ;  as  the  Dominican  opposition 
even  to  this  day  to  the  Copernican  system  may  be  taken 
to  illustrate.  So  again  in  history  &c.  a  cumulative  argument, 
though  not  demonstrative,  may  claim  of  us,  i.e.  by  the  law  of 
our  nature,  by  our  duty  to  our  nature,  i.e.  by  our  duty  to 
God,  an  act  of  certitude.  Paper  logic,  syllogisms,  and  states 
of  mind  are  incommensurables.  It  is  obvious  what  room 
there  is  for  the  interference  of  the  will  here.  None  are  so 
deaf  as  those  who  won't  hear. 

'  Now  I  know  that  to  say  all  this  and  no  more,  is  to  open 
the  door  to  endless  disputes.  The  only  thing  to  be  done  is 
to  rest  the  whole  on  certain  first  principles,  and  to  say  if  you 
can't  take  my  first  principles,  I  can't  help  it.  But  to  find  the 
first  principles  is  the  difficulty. 

'  St.  John  says  "he  that  believeth  in  the  Son  hath  life — 
and  he  that  believeth  not  the  Son  hath  not  life."  /  say 
I  see  no  difficulty  here,  another  says  the  idea  is  absurd.  What 
are  we  to  do  when  we  thus  differ  in  first  principles  ?  "  Qui 
vult  salvus  esse,  ita  de  Trinitate  sentiat."  No  wuh,  certainly, 
has  a  right  to  say  this — but  why  may  not  God  say  it  .^ 
And  if  my  ^p6vT)ais  assures  me  that  there  is  such  evidence 
for  God  having  said  it  (evidonce  qualis  et  quanta)  that  I 
am  bound  in  duty  to  believe  it,  why  must  I  not  believe  both 
the  doctrine  and  the  fearful  sanction  of  it?  If  a  person  tells 
me  that  his  (jipovrjais  does  not  see  the  existence  of  such 
evidence,  as  is  sufficient,  that  is  another  matter  ;  but  I  am 
arguing  against  the  prijiciple  that  (fypovrjais  is  a  higher  sort 
of  logic — whereas  even  mathematical  conclusions,  i.e.  the 
issues  o{  extended  calculations,  require  to  be  believed  in  by  the 
action  of  ^povncris  ;  for  how  can  I  be  sure,  I  tease  myself 
by  saying  again  and  again—  how  can  I  be  sure,  that  here  or 
there  my  logical  vigilance  has  not  failed  mc  ?  I  have  not  got 
every  step  in  every  course  of  mathematical  reasoning  neces- 
sary for  the  conclusion,  clearly  before  my  eyes  at  once.  And  we 
know  what  command  nervous  persons  are  obliged  to  exert 
over  themselves  lest  they  should  doubt  whether  even  they 
see  or  feel  ;  or  whether  they  know  anything  at  all.  Should 
not  I  be  an  ass  if  I  did  not  believe  in  the  existence  of  India  ? 


250  LIFE   OF  CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

Yet  are  there  not  .scores  of  persons  who  have  had  evidence 
of  a  quality  and  quantity  indefinitely  higher  than  mine?  for 
I  have  not  been  there  and  they  have.  1  should  think  mj'self 
a  fool,  if  I  said  "  I  have  some  doubt  about  the  existence  of 
India,"  or  "  I  am  not  certain  about  it,"  or  "  I  reserve  the 
point."  I  am  certain  ;  YOU,  my  good  Sir,  are  certain  too— 
you  confuse  two  things  quite  distinct  from  each  other — 
want  of  completeness  in  Barbara  &c.,  which  is  a  scientific  rule 
of  the  game,  and  a  habit  of  mind  ; — a  calculating  machine 
and  a  prerogative  of  human  nature.  An  objection  is  not  a 
doubt — ten  thousand  objections  as  little  make  one  doubt,  as 
ten  thousand  ponies  make  one  horse  ;  though  of  course  a 
certain  aniouiit  of  objection  ought,  as  my  ^povrja-is  tells  me,, 
to  weigh  upon  my  decision,  and  to  affect  my  existing  belief 
A  great  deal  of  confusion  arises  from  the  double  sense  of  a 
lot  of  cognate  words — e.g.  "  conclusion  "  means  both  the 
proposition  drawn  from  two  premisses,  and  the  state  of 
mind  in  which  I  find  myself  after  reviewing  the  argument, 
the  relation  of  my  mind  to  a  thing  expressed  in  a  certain 
proposition  ;  and  this  helps  the  real  intellectual  mistake 
made  by  sceptical  thinkers. 

*  The  key,  however,  of  the  position,  in  the  controversy 
which  is  before  us,  is  this — and  to  gain  that  on  either  side  is  the 
victory — whether  you  may  or  may  not  rationally  keep  your 
mind  open  to  change  on  a  point  on  which  your  (ppovTjais  has 
already  told  you  to  decide  one  way.  Here  I  say  there  is  a 
difference  between  science  and  religion,  between  religion  of 
nature  and  the  Catholic  religion — but  it  would  take  too  long 
a  time  to  explain  and  indeed  I  have  not  yet  fully  worked 
the  whole  matter  out  in  my  mind  to  my  satisfaction.  I 
should  ask,  does  not  nature,  duty  and  affection  teach  us  that 
a  difference  is  to  be  made  between  things  and  persons  ? 
Ought  I  to  be  as  open  to  listen  to  objections  brought  to  me 
against  the  honour,  fidelity,  love  towards  me  of  a  friend,  as 
again.st  the  received  belief  that  the  earth  is  95  million  miles 
from  the  Sun  ?  Again  there  is  a  truth  which  no  natural 
reason  can  gain,  revealed.  God  may  put  His  own  conditions 
on  the  development  of  that  truth — and,  (though  at  first 
sight  paradoxical)  He  may  make  one  of  those  conditions 
[thus  foreseen]  to  be  a  slowness  to  receive  more  truth — (I 
don't  mean  of  course  a  slowness  to  be  taught,  but  a  slowness  to 
see  that  He  is  teaching).  This  condition  may  be  necessary 
on  conservative  reasons,  from  the  extreme  difficulty  to 
human  nature  of  retaining  what  is  supernatural,  so  that,  if 
we  took  in  new  truths  too  quickly,  we  might  lose  the  old. 
Thus  it  might  have  been  injurious  to  the  thorough  reception, 


♦THE   GRAMMAR   OF  ASSENT'  {1870)  251 

the  accurate  complete  mapping  out  of  the  doctrine  of  the 
Incarnation,  if  the  Immaculate  Conception  B.V.M.  and  her 
other  prerogatives  had  been  too  readily  received — or  again 
the  doctrine  of  Man's  free  will  and  responsibility,  one  of  the 
characteristic  doctrines  of  Christianity,  might  never  have 
made  its  way  against  the  fatalism  and  recklessness  of  heathen 
times,  if  St.  Austin's  doctrines  of  Grace  and  original  sin  had 
been  taught  too  early.  And  thus  I  resign  myself  to  many 
things  said  and  done  by  good  men,  which,  though  they  have 
in  them  the  leaven  of  prejudice  and  uncharitableness,  are 
based  on  a  wish  to  keep  simply  to  what  they  have  received. 
However  this  is  one  of  those  subjects  which  in  the  beginning 
of  this  letter  I  said  were  too  large  for  a  letter.  One  thing 
I  must  add,  as  having  omitted.  When  I  am  asked  why 
I  cautiously  and  promptly  exclude  doubts,  I  answer  I  do  so 
because  they  are  doubts  ;  I  don't  see  the  need  of  excluding 
objections.  The  mind  is  very  likely  to  be  carried  away  to 
doubt  unthout  a  basis  of  objections  sufficient  in  the  judgment 
of  the  (f)p6v7]ais  to  justify  it.  The  imagination,  not  the 
reason,  is  appealed  to.  How  could  God  exist  without 
beginning?  In  reason  this  is  no  objection,  for  reason  tells 
us  that  souiething  must  have  been  without  beginning.  But 
to  the  imagination  it  is  an  overpowering  difficulty.  To  a 
half  educated  man.  I  should  say,  strangle  the  doubt — don't 
read  the  book  which  so  affects  you.  This  is  not  bidding  him 
not  to  listen  to  reasons,  but  to  insufficient  reasons,  to  false 
reasons,  which  are  a  temptation  to  him.  The  rule  "strangle 
doubts  "  is  a  rule  of  the  Confessional,  not  a  point  of  dogmatic 
theology  ....  And  as  to  prayer,  usuiii  non  tollit  abusus.  God 
has  given  His  friends  a  privilege — that  of  gaining  favours 
from  Him — A  father  says  to  his  child  going  to  school,  "  Now 
mind  you  write  to  me  once  a  week."  And  he  rewards  him 
in  various  ways,  if  he  is  obedient  in  this  respect — We  are 
God's  children — we  are  not  grown  men — Saints  would 
worship  God  solely  because  He  is  God — We  all  love  Him 
for  Himself,  but,  considering  what  we  are,  it  is  merciful  that 
He  has  made  hope  as  well  as  faith  and  love,  a  theological 
virtue.  But  this  is  but  a  poor  and  scanty  exposure  of  a 
wonderful  paradox. 

*  As  there  are  things  in  this  letter,  which  I  have  not  till  now 
put  on  paper,  please  keep  it.  I  am  sure  I  don't  know  what 
others  will  think  of  it.  I  only  know,  it  is  only  plain  common 
sense  to  me.     If  you  have  anything  to  say  upon  it,  write.' 

While  thus  full  of  his  subject,  Newman  showed  his  first 
draft  to  some  friends  familiar  with  the  theology  of  the  schools, 


2  52  LIFE   OF  CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

and  was,  as  often  before,  discouraged  to  find  how  little  they 
appreciated  the  urgency  of  the  difficulty  he  was  endeavouring 
to  meet,  and  how  ready  they  were  to  find  matter  for  censure 
in  those  modes  of  expression  which  gave  individuality  and 
originality  to  his  work.  Here  was  a  sadly  sufficient  answer 
to  the  remonstrance  made  by  Wilberforce  himself  for  the 
comparatively  small  amount  he  had  published  of  late  years  : 

'  The  Oratory  :  Avig.  i2lh,  1868. 

'  My  dear  H,  W., — Thank  you  for  the  trouble  you  have 
taken  in  copying  my  letter,  and  for  the  encouragement  you 
give  me,  which  I  sorely  need.  I  know  any  how,  that, 
however  honest  are  my  thoughts,  &  earnest  my  endeavours 
to  keep  rigidly  within  the  lines  of  Catholic  doctrine,  every 
word  I  publish  will  be  malevolently  scrutinized,  and  every 
expression  which  can  possibly  be  perverted  sent  straight  to 
Rome— that  I  shall  be  fighting  wider  the  lash,  which  does 
not  tend  to  produce  vigorous  efforts  in  the  battle,  or  to  inspire 
either  courage  or  presence  of  mind.  And  if  from  those  who 
ought  to  be  friends,  I  cannot  look  for  sympathy — if,  did  I  do 
my  work  ever  so  well,  they  will  take  no  interest  in  it,  or  see 
the  use  of  it,  where  can  I  look  for  that  moral  aid  which 
carries  one  through  difficulties?  where  for  any  token  that 
Providence  means  me  to  go  on  with  my  work  ? 

'  I  don't  think  my  various  occupations  here  are  the  cause 
of  my  doing  so  little.  I  was  full  of  household  work  when 
I  wrote  my  Anglican  difficulties  and  Catholicism  in  England 
—but  I  was  not  encompassed  then  by  a  host  of  ill  wishers, 
and  I  was  younger.  Now  it  tires  me  to  be  a  long  time  at 
one  matter,  and  from  fatigue  I  cannot  write  things  off.  Also 
my  present  subject  is  one  which  can  only  gradually  be 
thought  out. 

'As  to  my  engagements  here,  a  Superior  must  have 
them.  We  are  very  few  Fathers,  and  each  has  his  work — one 
has  the  jail — another  the  orphanage — two  have  the  school — 
another  has  the  parish — another  the  Poor  Schools.  The  great 
domestic  works,  the  care  of  the  Library,  the  Sacristy,  the 
Accounts,  necessarily  in  great  measure  fall  to  me,  at  least  at 
intervals.  Now  I  am  at  the  Library.  The  Oxford  matter, 
correspondence  &  accounts,  took  up  an  untold  mass  of  time, 
— and  tired  me,  so  that  they  wasted  more.  And  now  that  I 
am  getting  so  old,  I  wanted  to  go  through  all  my  correspond- 
ence &c.  &c.  which  will  be  close  employment  for  some  years. 

'  Ever  yours  affectionately, 

John  H.  Newman.' 


'THE    GRAMMAR   OF   ASSENT'  (1870)  253 

He  persevered  with  his  work,  but  somewhat  sadly.  He 
writes  of  it  on  September  3  to  Ambrose  St.  John  : 

*  I  am  getting  on  with  my  Opus  (Essay  of  Assent)  but 
ungratefully.  I  have  got  downhearted  about  it,  as  if  "  cui 
bono?"  Wallis  has  been  looking  at  it,  and  though  he  is 
complimentary,  what  he  really  thinks  I  cannot  tell.  I  have 
not  touched  the  violin  since  I  saw  you  except  last  Sunday, 
when  I  drew  such  doleful  sounds  from  it,  that  I  at  once  left 
off.' 

Newman's  haunting  fear — as  we  see  in  subsequent  letters — 
was  of  the  men  who  knew  much  and  understood  little  ;  who 
could  bring  to  bear  a  large  array  of  expressions  stamped 
'  orthodox  '  against  him,  yet  had  not  such  perception  of  the 
real  problems  in  question  as  to  enable  them  to  distinguish 
between  contradictions  mainly  or  merely  verbal,  and  funda- 
mental contrarieties.  His  unceasing  protest,  moreover,  was 
against  the  '  nihilism '  of  condemning  able  works  of  apolo- 
getic on  technical  grounds,  without  appreciating  the  urgent 
difficulties  which  made  them  necessary,  and  without  supply- 
ing anything  in  their  place  to  meet  those  difficulties.  The 
work  of  a  writer  who  has  true  insight  into  the  sources 
of  contemporary  unbelief  may  be  indispensable,  even  though 
it  may  contain  incidental  error.  Some  words  in  a  Dublin 
lecture  expressed  a  feeling  on  this  subject  which  was  habi- 
tual with  him.  '  Perhaps  the  errors  of  an  author  are  those 
which  are  inseparable  accidents  of  his  system  or  of  his  mind, 
and  are  spontaneously  evolved,  not  pertinaciously  defended. 
Every  human  system,  every  human  writer  is  open  to  just 
criticism.  Make  him  shut  up  his  portfolio,  good  !  and  then 
perhaps  you  lose  what,  on  the  whole  and  in  spite  of  inci- 
dental mistakes,  would  have  been  one  of  the  ablest  defences 
of  Revealed  Truth  ever  given  to  the  world.'  ^ 

Newman  was  far  too  uncertain  of  his  own  work  to  place 
it  confidently  in  the  category  named  in  this  passage.  But  it 
represented  the  thoughts  of  a  whole  life.  Such  thoughts  had 
been  invaluable  to  him,  and  they  might  help  others.  They 
should  be  given  their  full  chance.  And  he  feared  lest  on 
the  contrary  they  might  be  censured  by  those  who  neither 
understood  them  nor  needed  them,  simply  because  his  phrases 

'  See  Idea  of  a  University,  p.  477. 


254  LIFE   OF  CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

did  not  run  in  the  accustomed  groove.  His  fears  were  to 
some  extent  fulfilled  when  he  showed  his  work  in  proof  to  a 
theological  friend,  as  we  see  from  the  following  letter  to 
Henry  Wilbcrforce  : 

'  August  20,  1 869. 
•  It  is  sad  to  hear  anyone  speak  as  if  his  work  was  done, 
and  he  was  but  waiting  to  go     not  sad—as  if  it  were  not  good 
to  go ;  but  [it  is]  not  good  to  be  in  the  world  still,  with  one's 
work    done — for  what  does  one    live    for  except  to  work  ? 
And  then  my  thoughts  glanced  off  from  you  and  came  down 
on   myself  with  dismal   effect — for  what  am   I  doing,  what 
have   I   been  doing  for  years,  but  nothing  at  all?     I   have 
wished    earnestly    to  do  some   good   work,   and  continually 
asked    myself  whether  I  am  one  of  those  who  are  "  fruges 
consumere  nati " — and  have,  to  the  best  of  my  lights,  taken 
what  I  thought    God    would    have    me   do — but    again    and 
again,  plan  after   plan    has  crumbled   under  my  hands  and 
come  to  nought.     As  to  the  Oxford  matter  my  heart  sank 
under  the  greatness  of  the  task  and   I  think  it  would  have 
shortened  my  life,  still  it  was  work  and  service— and,  when  it 
was  shut  up,  though  I  felt  for  the  moment  a  great  relief,  yet 
it   came  upon  me  sorrowfully  as  a  fresh    balk    and    failure. 
Upon  its  settlement,  I  took  up  to  write  a  book  upon  some 
questions  of  the  day,  (you  know  the  sort  of  questions,  about 
faith  &c.)  and  now  (in  confidence)  I  think  this  will  be  stopped 
after  my  infinite  pains  about  it.     Our  theological  philosophers 
are  like  the  old  nurses  who  wrap  the  unhappy  infant  in  swad- 
dling bands  or  boards  — put  a  lot  of  blankets  over  him  — and 
shut  the  windows  that  not  a  breath  of  fresh  air  may  come  to 
his  skin  as  if  he  were  not  healthy  enough  to  bear  wind  and 
water  in  due  measure.     They  move  in  a  groove,  and  will  not 
tolerate   anyone  who  does    not    move  in  the    same.     So   it 
breaks  upon  me,  that  I  shall  be  doing  more  harm  than  good 
in    publishing.     What    influence   should    I    have   with    Pro- 
testants and  Infidels,  if  a  pack  of  Catholic  critics  opened  at 
my  back  fiercely,  saying  that  this  remark  was  illogical,  that 
unheard    of,    a    third    realistic,    a    fourth    idealistic,   a    fifth 
sceptical,  and  a  sixth  temerarious,  or  shocking  to  pious  ears  ? 
This  is  the  prospect  which  I  begin  to  fear  lies  before  me — 
and    thus   I   am    but   fulfilling  on    trial  what   I  said    in   my 
"Apologia  "  had  hitherto  kept  me  from  writing,  viz.  the  risk 
of  "  complicating  matters  further."    There  was  a  caricature  in 
PuncJi  some  years  ago  so  good  that  I  cut  it  out  and  kept  it. 
An  artist  is  showing  to  a  friend  his  great  picture  just  going 
to  the  Exhibition— the  friend  says  "Very  good,  but  could 


'THE   GRAMMAR   OF  ASSENT'    (1870)  255 

you  not  make  the  Duke  sitting  and  the  Duchess  standing, 
whereas  the  Duchess  sits  and  the  Duke  stands?"  I  cannot 
make  a  table  stand  on  two  or  three  legs — I  cannot  cut  off 
one  of  the  wings  of  my  butterfly  or  moth  (whatever  its  value) 
and  keep  it  from  buzzing  round  itself.  One  thing  is  not 
another  thing.  My  one  thing  may  be  worth  nothing  at  the 
best — but  at  least  it  is  not  made  worth  something  by  being 
cut  in  half 

'  You  must  not  for  an  instant  suppose  that  I  am  alluding 
to  the  acts  of  anyone  whose  opinion  I  have  wished  to  have 
upon  what  I  have  written — but  through  a  kind  friend  I  come 
more  to  see  than  I  did,  what  an  irritabile  genus  Catholic 
philosophers  are— they  think  they  do  the  free  Church  of  God 
service,  by  subjecting  it  to  an  etiquette  as  grievous  as  that 
which  led  to  the  King  of  Spain  being  burned  to  cinders.' 

Dr.  Meynell — the  friend  above  alluded  to  in  Newman's 
letter  to  Mr,  Wilberforce — had,  as  we  have  seen,  expressed 
great  admiration  of  the  Oxford  University  Sermons  on  Faith 
and  Reason,  and  he  was  at  the  same  time  a  trained  scholastic 
philosopher  and  theologian.  To  him,  then,  Newman  ap- 
pealed to  read  the  proof  sheets  of  his  work,  sending  the 
first  instalment  on  July  2,  1869.  The  text  of  Dr.  Meynell's 
criticisms  I  have  not  found,  but  Newman's  own  part  of  the 
correspondence,  though  not  wholly  intelligible  without  the 
criticisms  to  which  his  letters  refer,  is  characteristic.  We 
see  in  his  letters  his  general  desire  to  avoid  even  forms  of 
expression  which  have  been  for  good  reasons  discouraged  by 
high  theological  authority.  One  noteworthy  point  of  debate 
is  Newman's  use  of  the  word  '  instinct,'  which  is  so  generally 
associated  with  impulses  below  the  rational  nature  that  Dr. 
Meynell  naturally  demurred  to  it  as  applied  to  rational  know- 
ledge. But  in  Newman's  own  use  of  the  term  it  includes 
the  spontaneous  inferences  of  the  '  illative  sense  ' — processes 
of  subconscious  reasoning — as  well  as  the  lower  instincts  ; 
and  he  suggested  that  to  express  the  instinct  of  brutes  which 
has  no  rational  character  some  other  phrase  ought  to  be 
devised.  Newman's  work  was  primarily  psychological,  and 
the  distinction  between  the  spontaneous  act  of  the  mind 
and  the  mind's  subsequent  reflection  on  its  own  spontaneous 
act,  was  so  important  a  psychological  fact  that  he  desired 
to  make  no  change  of  expression  which  would  obscure  it. 


256  LIFE    OF   CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

Where,  however,  a  change  of  words  will  not  obscure  his 
meaning  he  readily  consents  to  it.  He  shows  in  this  cor- 
respondence, as  in  many  other  cases,  a  strong  consciousness 
of  his  own  want  of  familiarity  with  the  literature  of  meta- 
physics, and  at  the  same  time  a  keen  confidence  in  his 
own  thoughts,  as  distinguished  from  the  wisdom  of  his 
expressions.  The  latter  must,  he  recognises,  be  affected  by 
the  use  of  phrases  both  in  the  history  of  philosophy  and  in 
the  Catholic  Schools.  He  is  quite  prepared  to  correct 
expressions,  and  to  think  out  his  view  again  with  such  an 
object.  But  if  it  should  prove  that  he  could  not  bring  out 
his  thought  without  showing  '  an  irreconcilable  difference  ' 
between  '  its  conditions  and  what  the  Church  teaches  or  has 
sanctioned '  he  feels  that  he  must  drop  his  work  altogether. 
There  were  some  bad  half-hours,  when  he  feared  that  he 
must  give  over  his  work— as  the  letters  to  Wilberforce  have 
already  shown.  But  in  the  end  the  correspondence  makes 
it  clear  that  Dr.  Mcynell,  though  he  regarded  Newman's  book 
as  treading  often  on  new  and  unfamiliar  ground,  passed  it 
entirely  on  the  score  of  orthodoxy. 

'  Your  experienced  eye,'  Newman  writes  in  sending  the 
proofs,  '  will  see  if  I  have  run  into  any  language  which 
offends  against  doctrinal  propriety  or  common  sense.  I  am 
not  certain  that  you  will  not  suddenly  light  on  a  wasp-nest, 
though  I  have  no  suspicion  of  it — but  when  a  matter  has 
not  been  one's  study  it  is  difficult  to  have  confidence  in 
oneself.' 

Dr.   Meynell's  criticisms  arrived  before  the  end   of  the 

month,  and  I  make  some  extracts  from  Newman's  share  in 

the  correspondence  which  ensued. 

'July  25111., 

'  I  thank  you  very  much  for  your  criticisms  which  will  be 
very  useful  to  me.  .  .  . 

•  However  the  next  sheet  will  be  my  great  difficulty — 
and  I  shall  not  wonder  if  it  was  decisive  one  way  or  the  other. 
You  will  find  I  there  consider  that  the  dictate  of  conscience 
is  particular— not  general— and  that  from  the  multiplication 
of  particulars  I  infer  the  general— so  that  the  moral  sense,  as 
a  knowledge  generally  of  the  moral  law,  is  a  deduction  from 
particulars. 

'Next,  that  this  dictate  of  conscience,  which  is  natural 
and    the   voice   of  God,    Is   a    moral    instinct,  and   its   owa 


'THE   GRAMMAR   OF   ASSENT'   (1870)  257 

evidence — as  the  belief  in  an  external  world  is  an  instinct  on 
the  apprehension  of  sensible  phenomena. 

'  That  to  deny  these  instincts  is  an  absurdity,  because  they 
are  the  voice  of  nature. 

'  That  it  is  a  duty  to  trust  or  rather  to  use  our  nature — 
and  not  to  do  so  is  an  absurdity. 

'  That  to  recognize  our  nature  is  really  to  recognize  God. 

'  Hence  those  instincts  come  from  God — and  as  the  moral 
law  is  an  inference  or  generalisation  from  those  instincts,  the 
moral  law  is  ultimately  taught  us  from  God,  whose  nature; 
it  is. 

*  Now  if  this  is  a  wasp-nest  tell  me.  If  the  Church  has' 
said  otherwise,  I  give  it  all  up — but  somehow  it  is  so  mixed 
up  with  my  whole  book,  that,  if  it  is  not  safe,  I  shall  not  go 
on.' 

'July  27. 

'  I  am  extremely  obliged  to  you  for  the  trouble  you  are 
taking  with  me — and  I  hope  my  shying,  as  I  do,  will  not 
keep  you  from  speaking  out.  Pray  bring  out  always  what 
you  have  to  say.  I  am  quite  conscious  that  metaphysics  is 
a  subject  on  which  one  cannot  hope  to  agree  with  those  with 
whom  in  other  matters  one  agrees  most  heartily,  from  the 
extreme  subtlety — but  I  am  also  deeply  conscious  of  my  own 
ignorance  on  the  whole  matter,  and  it  sometimes  amazes  me 
that  I  have  ventured  to  write  on  a  subject  which  is  even 
accidentally  connected  with  it.  And  this  makes  me  so  very 
fearful  lest  I  should  be  saying  anything  temerarious  or 
dangerous — the  ultimate  angles  being  so  small  from  which 
lines  diverge  to  truth  and  error. 

'  Be  sure  I  should  never  hastily  give  over  what  I  am  doing, 
because  I  should  have  trouble  in  correcting  or  thinking  out 
again  what  I  have  said — but  if  I  found  some  irreconcilable 
difference,  running  through  my  view,  between  its  conditions 
and  what  the  Church  teaches  or  has  sanctioned,  of  course  I 
should  have  no  hesitation  of  stopping  at  once. 

'  So  please  to  bear  with  me  if  I  start  or  plunge.' 

•Aug.  12. 
'  I  send  you  with  much  trepidation  my  Asses'  Bridge. 
Not  that  I  have  not  many  skeleton  bridges  to  pass  and 
pontoons  to  construct  in  what  is  to  come,  but,  if  I  get  over 
the  present,  I  shall  despair  of  nothing.  Recollect,  all  your 
kindness  and  consideratcness  cannot  alter  facts ;  if  I  am 
wrong,  I'm  wrong — if  I  am  rash,  I'm  rash, — yet  certainly 
I  do  wish  to  get  at  King  Theodore  over  the  tops  of  the 
mountains  if  I  can.' 

VOL.  II.  S 


258  LIFE   OF  CARDINAL    NEWMAN 

'Aug.  17, 

'  I  only  do  hope  I  am  not  spoiling  your  holiday.  You 
are  doing  me  great  service. 

*  To  bring  matters  to  a  point,  I  propose  to  send  you  my 
chapter  on  the  apprehension  and  assent  to  the  doctrine  of  a 
Supreme  Being.  If  you  find  principles  in  that  chapter,  which 
cannot  be  allowed,  res  finita  est.  As  to  your  remarks  on  the 
printed  slips,  let  me  trouble  you  with  the  following  questions. 

'  I.  You  mean  that  it  is  dangerous  to  hold  that  we  be- 
lieve in  matter  as  a  conclusion  from  our  sensations — for 
our  belief  in  matter  is  in  consequence  of  our  consciousness  of 
resistance,  which  is  not  a  sensation.  Will  it  mend  matters 
to  observe  that  I  don't  use  the  word  "  sensations " — but 
experiences  ?  and  surely  resistance  is  an  experience — but  if 
we  infer  matter  from  resistance,  therefore  we  infer  it  from 
experience. 

*2.  By  instinct  I  mean  a  realization  of  a  particular;  by 
intuition,  of  a  general  fact — in  both  cases  without  assignable 
or  recognizable  media  of  realization.  Is  there  any  word  I 
could  use  instead  of  instinct  to  denote  the  realization  of 
particulars?  Still,  I  do  not  see  how  you  solve  my  difificulty 
of  instinct  leading  brutes  to  the  realization  of  something 
external  to  themselves  ?  Perhaps  it  ought  not  to  be  called 
instinct  in  brutes — but  by  some  other  name. 

'  3.  Am  I  right  in  thinking  that  you  wish  me  to  infer 
matter  as  a  cause  from  phenomena  as  an  effect,  from  viy  own 
view  <?/" cause  and  effect.  But  in  my  own  view  cause  is  Will; 
how  can  matter  be  Will  ? 

'  4.  "  Hypothetical  realism''  yes — if  conclusions  are  neces- 
sarily conditional.  But  I  consider  Ratiocination  far  higher, 
more  subtle,  wider,  more  certain  than  logical  Inference — 
and  its  principle  of  action  is  the  "  Illative  Sense,"  which 
I  treat  of  towards  the  end  of  the  volume.  If  I  say 
that  Ratiocination    leads    to   absolute    truth,  am  I    still    an 

hypothetical  realist  ? ' 

'Aug.  18,  1869. 

'  I  send  you  by  this  post  the  MSS.  which  I  spoke  of  in 
my  last. 

'  On  second  thoughts  I  don't  see  how  I  can  change  the 
word  "instinct" — 1  have  not  indeed  any  where  used  it  for 
the  perception  of  God  from  our  experiences,  but  in  later 
chapters  I  speak  of  Catholic  instincts, — Mother  Margaret's 
instincts,  the  instinct  of  calculating  boys,  in  all  cases  using 
the  word  "  instinct "  to  mean  a  spontaneous  impulse,  physical 
or  intelligent,  in  the  individual,  leading  to  a  result  without 
assignable  or  recognisable  intellectual  media. 


«THE   GRAMMAR   OF  ASSENT'  (1870)  259 

'  Would  it  do,  if  I  kept  the  passage  and  put  a  note  to  this 
effect, — "  I  speak  thus  under  correction,  and  withdraw  it 
prospectively,  if  it  is  contrary  to  the  teaching  of  the  theological 
Schola"?' 

'Aug.  20,  1869. 

'  Pray  forgive  me  if  unknown  to  myself  and  unintentionally 
I  have  led  you  to  think,  quite  contrary  to  my  thoughts,  that 
you  wrote  dogmatically.  Just  the  contrary,  and  you  are 
doing  me  a  great  service  in  letting  me  see  hoiv  matters  stand 
in  the  philosophical  school. 

'  Forgive  too  the  treacherousness  of  my  memory,  though 
by  "  composition "  I  meant  the  composition  of  my  matter, 
the  drawing  out  of  my  argument,  etc, 

'  Nothing  can  be  clearer  than  your  remarks.  Now  let  me 
say  I  had  no  intention  at  all  of  saying  that  I  know,  e.g.  that 
I  have  a  sheet  of  paper  before  me,  by  an  argmnent  from  the 
impression  on  my  senses — "  that  impression  imist  have  a 
cause — "  but  it  is  ^perception  (that  is,  a  kind  of  instinct).  I 
have  used  the  word  "  perception "  again  and  again  ;  that 
perception  comes  to  me  through  my  senses — therefore  I 
cannot  call  it  immediate.  If  it  were  not  for  my  senses,  nothing 
would  excite  me  to  perceive — but  as  soon  as  I  see  the  white 
paper,  I  perceive  by  instinct  (as  I  call  it)  without  argumenta- 
tive media,  through  my  senses,  but  not  logically  byvdy  senses, 
that  there  is  a  thing,  of  which  the  white  paper  is  the  outward 
token.  Then,  when  I  have  this  experience  again  and 
again,  I  go  on  from  the  one,  two,  three  etc.  accompanying 
perceptions  of  one,  two,  three  etc.  external  objects,  to  make 
an  induction,  "  There  is  a  vast  external  world."  This  in- 
duction leads  to  a  conclusion  much  larger  than  the  particular 
perceptions — because  it  includes  in  it  that  the  earth  has  an 
inside,  and  that  the  moon  has  a  further  side,  though  I  don't 
see  it. 

'Therefore  I  hold  that  we  do  not /r<3z;^  external  individual 
objects,  \in\.  perceive  them — I  cannot  say  that  we  immediately 
perceive  them,  because  it  is  through  the  experience  as  an 
instrument  that  we  are  led  to  them — and  though  we  do  not 
prove  the  particular,  we  do  prove  the  general,  i.e.  by  induction 
from  the  particular.  I  am  sanguine  in  thinking  this  is  in 
substance  what  you  say  yourself.' 

The  office  of  informal  censor  did  not  prove  entirely  easy. 
Considering  the  intellectual  eminence  of  the  writer  and  the 
rigid  principles  of  scholastic  philosophy,  to  sanction  or  to 
check  the  new  and  subtle  arguments  submitted  for  censorship 

s  2 


26o  LIFE   OF   CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

was  a  difficult  alternative  ;  and  in  August  Dr.  Meynell  spoke 
of  giving  up  his  task.     This  was  a  great  blow  to  Newman  : 

'  The  Oratory  :  Aug.  2ist,  1869. 

'  My  dear  Dr.  Meynell, — Your  intention  to  give  up  has 
shocked  and  dismayed  me  more  than  I  can  say — shocked  me 
because  I  fear  I  must  have  said  something  or  other  in  writing 
which  has  scared  you,  and  dismayed  me,  for  what  am  I 
to  do? 

'  I  quite  understand  that  you  must  feel  it  a  uiost  un- 
pleasant responsibility  (though,  of  course,  I  shall  not  tell 
anyone)  and  an  endless  work,  for  when  will  it  be  finished  ? 
It  is  enough  to  spoil  your  holiday,  and  to  bother  your 
professional  work,  and  I  really  have  not  a  word  to  say 
besides  thanking  you  for  what  you  have  already  done  for  me, 
and  begging  you  to  forgive  me  if,  like  a  camel  when  they  are 
loading  it,  I  have  uttered  dismal  cries. 

'  Well,  now  I  am  in  a  most  forlorn  condition,  and,  like 
Adam,  I  feel  "  the  world  is  all  before  me."  Whom  am  I  to 
ask  to  do  the  work  which  you  have  so  kindly  begun  ?  I  shall 
not  get  anyone  so  patient  as  you,  and,  alas,  alas,  what 
is  to  come  is,  for  what  I  know,  more  ticklish  even  than  what 
you  have  seen. 

'  I  have  availed  myself  of  all  your  remarks  in  some 
way  or  other,  though  I  have  not  always  taken  them  pure  and 
simple. 

'Thank  you  for  saying  you  will  say  Mass  for  me.  It  is  a 
great  kindness. 

'  Ever  yours  most  sincerely, 

John  H.  Newman. 

'  P.S.  I  have  not  said  what  I  feel  most  sadly,  your  language 
about  your  own  littleness.  If  you  are  little,  I  must  be  less, 
because  you  are  really  teaching  me.  I  should  be  a  fool  if  I 
did  not  avail  myself  most  thankfully  of  your  remarks. 

'  You  know,  anyhow,  you  have  promised  me  some  remarks 
on  the  MS.' 

Dr.  Meynell,  however,  in  the  end  resumed  his  work,  and 
all  went  peacefully  thenceforward.  One  interesting  point  was 
raised  in  connection  with  the  '  illative  sense.'  Dr.  Meynell 
apparently  desired  to  treat  as  really  identical  the  spontaneous 
judgments  of  the  mind  and  their  subsequent  reasoned  analysis, 
Newman's  candid  psychology  made  him  demur  to  this. 

'  You  are  ten  times  more  likely  to  be  right  on  such  a 
point  than    I   am,'  he  wrote ;    '  however,  at  present  I  don't 


'THE    GRAMMAR    OF   ASSENT'  (1870)  261 

follow  you,  though  I  will  think  about  it.  My  reason  is  this, 
that  consciousness  or  reflection  on  one's  acts  is  an  act 
different  in  kind  from  those  acts  themselves.  Its  object  is 
distinct.  If  I  walk,  my  e3^es  may  watch  my  walking.  If  I 
sing,  my  ears  listen  to  my  voice  and  tell  me  if  I  am  in  tune. 
These  are  acts  of  reflection  on  my  walking  and  singing,  are 
they  not?  but  the  original  act  is  bodily,  and  the  reflex  act  is 
mental.  I  assure  you  I  most  deeply  feel  that  I  may  be  out 
of  my  depth.  ...  I  am  not  sure,  from  what  you  said, 
whether  you  read  the  enclosed  bits  of  theology.  Please  to 
cast  your  eye  over  them.  I  must  have  a  theological  eye 
upon  them,  and  one  of  your  eyes  is  theological  though  the 
other  is  philosophical.' 

'  I  am  quite  ashamed  to  think  what  I  have  cost  you  in 
paper,  pens,  ink,  stamps  and  time,'  Newman  writes  to  his 
censor  as  the  revision  approaches  completion. 

When  the  book  was  published  its  author  wrote  his  formal 
thanks. 

'  The  Oratory :  Feb.  20/70. 

'  My  dear  Dr.  Meynell,  —  I  ought  before  now  to  have 
written  you  a  letter  both  of  congratulation  and  thanks  on 
the  termination  of  the  long  and  teasing  task  which  you 
have  so  valiantly  performed  in  my  behalf  All  I  can 
say  is  that  whatever  be  the  amount  of  trouble  you  have 
had  from  your  charitable  undertaking,  my  amount  of  gain 
from  it  has  been  greater.  What  the  positive  value  of  my 
volume  is  I  do  not  know  ;  but  this  I  do  know,  that,  many 
as  are  its  imperfections  and  faults,  they  would  have  been 
many  more  and  much  worse  but  for  you. 

*  Now  I  want  you  to  accept  some  keepsake  in  token  of 
my  gratitude  and  as  a  memorial  for  after  years.  I  don't  care 
what  it  is,  so  that  it  is  something  you  would  like.  This  is 
why  I  don't  send  you  something  without  asking,  for  it  might 
be  as  unwelcome  to  you,  when  it  came,  as  the  elephant  in 
Leech's  picture.  But  give  me  two  or  three  sets  of  books  to 
choose  out  of,  or  picture-books,  or  astronomical  instruments, 
or  images  or  what  you  please. 

'  Believe  me,  my  dear  Dr.  Meynell, 

Most  sincerely  yours  in  Xt., 

John  H.  Newman.' 

Newman  wrote  of  the  book  shortly  before  its  completion 
to  his  friend  Mr.  Serjeant  Bellasis,  to  whom  it  was  to  be 
dedicated  : 


262  LIFE    OF   CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

'  Tell  me  your  style  and  title  "  Edward  Bellasis  Esqr, 
Serjeant-at-Law "  ?  You  will  still  let  me  put  your  name, 
won't  you,  to  the  beginning  of  my  book  ?  I  suppose  it  will  be 
my  last.  I  have  not  finished  it.  I  have  written  in  all  (good 
and  bad)  5  constructive  books.  My  Prophetical  Office  (which 
has  come  to  pieces) — Essay  on  Justification — Development  of 
Doctrine— University  Lectures  (Dublin)  and  this.  Each  took 
me  a  great  deal  of  time  and  tried  me  very  much.  This,  I 
think,  has  tried  me  most  of  all.  I  have  written  and  rewritten 
it  more  times  than  I  can  count.  I  have  now  got  up  to  my 
highest  point — I  mean,  I  could  not  do  better,  did  I  spend  a 
century  on  it,  but  then,  it  may  be  "  bad  is  the  best." ' 

Newman  chose  for  the  full  title  of  his  book,  '  An  Essay  in 
Aid  of  a  Grammar  of  Assent,'  as  if  to  disclaim  as  emphatic- 
ally as  possible  any  pretension   to  a  final  treatment  of  his 
subject.     His  aim  was  simply  to  rouse  in  men's  minds  certain 
perceptions  as  to  their  mental  processes,  rooted  in  the  experi- 
ence of  mankind,  but  dormant,  or  apt  to  be  dormant,  because 
their  practical  importance  is  not  directly  obvious.     And  he 
trusted  that  these  perceptions,  once  properly  roused,  would 
account  for  and  justify   important  beliefs  which  could   not 
adequately  be  proved  by  explicit  logical  arguments.      The 
method  of  the  book  is  predominantly  empirical,  not  theoreti- 
cal.     Its  author  does  not  begin  by  laying  down  the  law  as  to 
^  ^-^     I  how  people  ought  to  think,  but  studies  rather  to  show  them 
^•^  ^         'how  they  do  think.     The  greater  part  of  the  work  consists  in 
'^^'"'^     -    an  elaborate  study  of  the  mental  operations  which  we  find 
^  '^    ,       underlying  the  processes  of  Apprehension,  Inference  (whether 
"^  ****  Formal  or  Informal),  Assent,  and  Certitude  ;  and  here,  besides 

the  contrast  already  noticed  between  Inference  and  Assent, 
appears  another,  equally  new  and  striking,  between  '  Real ' 
and  '  Notional  '  Apprehension  or  Assent.  All  this  is  illustrated 
by  numberless  examples,  touched  with  a  force  and  poetic 
beauty,  or  sometimes  a  pungent  humour,  which  is  scarcely 
paralleled  in  any  of  Newman's  other  works,  and  which  make 
the  book  well  worth  reading  for  its  literary  merit  alone.  To 
give  any  adequate  idea  of  the  beauty  of  the  Work  by  extracts, 
in  this  place,  would  be  quite  impossible. 

The  philosophical  value  of  the  '  Essay  on  Assent '  does 
not  at  all  depend  on  its  being  regarded  as  completely  meet- 
ing the  difficulty  it  contemplates.     Nor  does  it  depend  on 


'THE   GRAMMAR   OF   ASSENT'  (1870)  263 

Newman's  general  theory  being  accepted  in  its  entirety.  Its 
reasoning  and  illustrations  have  a  value  for  students  of 
psychology  far  beyond  its  definite  conclusions,  which  are  to 
some  extent  tentative.  To  the  power  of  spontaneous  action 
in  the  human  reason,  whereby  it  draws  its  conclusions  from 
premisses  of  which  it  is  only  in  part  explicitly  conscious, 
and  judges  those  conclusions  to  be  warranted,  he  gives  the 
name  of  '  illative  sense.'  The  mind  is,  he  says,  '  unequal  to 
a  complete  analysis  of  the  motives  which  carry  it  on  to  a 
particular  conclusion,  and  is  swayed  and  determined  by  a 
body  of  proof  which  it  recognises  only  as  a  body  and  not  in 
its  constituent  parts.'  He  instances  the  reasons  possessed 
by  most  of  us  for  believing  that  England  is  an  island.  We 
have  learnt  the  belief  among  the  other  indubitable  facts  of 
geography.  But  if  anyone  attempts  to  state  his  reasons 
for  regarding  the  fact  as  certain,  whether  he  will  in  the  end 
justify  it  successfully  or  not,  the  very  effort  will  at  least  show 
that  his  existing  belief  has  been  as  a  fact  determined  by  a 
body  of  proof  recognised  in  the  mass  as  amply  sufficient,  but 
not  hitherto  put  into  logical  form.  A  few  plausible  reasons 
for  the  belief  at  once  occur  to  the  mind,  but  falling  far  short 
of  demonstration.  And  similarly,  religious  belief  actually  rests 
for  most  men,  he  holds,  not  on  scientific  demonstrations,  but 
on  arguments  which  are  in  their  more  obvious  statement  and 
when  reduced  to  formal  propositions  only  probable  arguments, 
the  reasons  being  informal  in  character,  and  the  verbal  argu- 
ments only  symbols  of  those  subtler  grounds  which  make 
belief  as  deep  as  it  is,  and  justify  its  depth. 

'  I  am  suspicious  then  of  scientific  demonstrations  in 
a  question  of  concrete  fact,  in  a  discussion  between  fallible 
men.  However  let  those  demonstrate  who  have  the  gift  ; 
"  unus  quisque  in  suo  sensu  abundet."  For  me,  it  is  more 
congenial  to  my  own  judgment  to  attempt  to  prove  Christianity 
in  the  same  informal  way  in  which  I  can  prove  for  certain 
that  I  have  been  born  into  this  world,  and  that  I  shall  die 
out  of  it.  It  is  pleasant  to  my  own  feelings  to  follow  a 
theological  writer,  such  as  Amort,  who  has  dedicated  to  the 
great  Pope,  Benedict  XIV.,  what  he  calls  "a  new,  modest, 
and  easy  way  of  demonstrating  the  Catholic  religion."  In 
this  work  he  adopts  the  argument  merely  of  the  greater 
probability ;  I  prefer  to  rely  on  that  of  an  accuviulation  of 


264  LIFE   OF   CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

various  probabilities  ;  but  we  both  hold  (that  is,  I  hold  with 
him),  that  from  probabilities  we  may  construct  legitimate 
proof,  sufficient  for  certitude.  I  follow  him  in  holding,  that, 
since  a  good  Providence  watches  over  us,  He  blesses  such 
means  of  argument  as  it  has  pleased  Him  to  give  us,  in  the 
nature  of  man  and  of  the  world,  if  we  use  them  duly  for 
those  ends  for  which  He  has  given  them  ;  and  that,  as  in 
mathematics  we  are  justified  by  the  dictate  of  nature  in  with- 
holding our  assent  from  a  conclusion  of  which  we  have  not 
yet  a  strict  logical  demonstration,  so  by  a  like  dictate  we  are 
not  justified,  in  the  case  of  concrete  reasoning  and  especially 
of  religious  inquiry,  in  waiting  till  such  logical  demonstration 
is  ours,  but  on  the  contrary  are  bound  in  conscience  to  seek 
truth  and  to  look  for  certainty  by  modes  of  proof,  which,  when 
reduced  to  the  shape  of  formal  propositions,  fail  to  satisfy  the 
severe  requisitions  of  science. 

'  Here  then  at  once  is  one  momentous  doctrine  or 
principle,  which  enters  into  my  own  reasoning,  and  which 
another  ignores,  viz.  the  providence  and  intention  of  God  ; 
and  of  course  there  are  other  principles,  explicit  or  implicit, 
which  are  in  like  circumstances.  It  is  not  wonderful  then, 
that,  while  I  can  prove  Christianity  divine  to  my  own  satisfac- 
tion, I  shall  not  be  able  to  force  it  upon  anyone  else.  Multi- 
tudes indeed  I  ought  to  succeed  in  persuading  of  its  truth 
without  any  force  at  all,  because  they  and  I  start  from  the 
same  principles,  and  what  is  a  proof  to  me  is  a  proof  to 
them  ;  but  if  anyone  starts  from  any  other  principles  but 
ours,  I  have  not  the  power  to  change  his  principles,  or  the 
conclusion  which  he  draws  from  them,  any  more  than  I  can 
make  a  crooked  man  straight.  Whether  his  mind  will  ever 
grow  straight,  whether  I  can  do  anything  towards  its  becoming 
straight,  whether  he  is  not  responsible,  responsible  to  his  Maker, 
for  being  mentally  crooked,  is  another  matter  ;  still  the  fact 
remains,  that,  in  any  inquiry  about  things  in  the  concrete, 
men  differ  from  each  other,  not  so  much  in  the  soundness  of 
their  reasoning  as  in  the  principles  which  govern  its  exercise, 
that  those  principles  are  of  a  personal  character,  that  where 
there  is  no  common  measure  of  minds,  there  is  no  common 
measure  of  arguments,  and  that  the  validity  of  proof  is  de- 
termined, not  by  any  scientific  test,  but  by  the  illative  sense.' 

Newman  applies  his  theory  to  Natural  Religion  as  well  as 
to  Revealed.  In  the  case  of  Natural  Religion,  while  accepting 
the  argument  from  '  Order '  as  having  a  valid  place  in  the 
constructive  proof  of  Theism,  he  lays  far  more  stress  on  the 


'THE   GRAMMAR    OF   ASSENT'  (1870)  265 

argument  from  Conscience.  Few  pages  in  the  book  are  more 
characteristic  than  the  following,  which  describes  the  functions 
of  Conscience  in  impressing  on  the  imagination  our  personal 
relations  with  the  living  God  : 

'  Conscience  too,  considered  as  a  moral  sense,  an  intel- 
lectual sentiment,  is  a  sense  of  admiration  and  disgust,  of 
approbation  and  blame  :  but  it  is  something  more  than  a 
moral  sense  ;  it  is  always,  what  the  sense  of  the  beautiful  is 
in  certain  cases  ;  it  is  always  emotional.  No  wonder  then 
that  it  always  implies  what  that  sense  only  sometimes 
implies  ;  that  it  always  involves  the  recognition  of  a  living 
object,  towards  which  it  is  directed.  Inanimate  things 
cannot  stir  our  affections  ;  these  are  correlative  with  persons. 
If,  as  is  the  case,  we  feel  responsibility,  are  ashamed,  are 
frightened,  at  transgressing  the  voice  of  conscience,  this 
implies  that  there  is  One  to  whom  we  are  responsible,  before 
whom  we  are  ashamed,  whose  claims  upon  us  we  fear.  If, 
on  doing  wrong,  we  feel  the  same  tearful,  broken-hearted 
sorrow  which  overwhelms  us  on  hurting  a  mother  ;  if,  on 
doing  right  we  enjoy  the  same  sunny  serenity  of  mind,  the 
same  soothing,  satisfactory  delight  which  follows  on  our 
receiving  praise  from  a  father,  we  certainly  have  within  us 
the  image  of  some  person,  to  whom  our  love  and  veneration 
look,  in  whose  smile  we  find  our  happiness,  for  whom  we 
yearn,  towards  whom  we  direct  our  pleadings,  in  whose 
anger  we  are  troubled  and  waste  away.  These  feelings  in  us 
are  such  as  require  for  their  exciting  cause  an  intelligent 
being  :  we  are  not  affectionate  towards  a  stone,  nor  do  we 
feel  shame  before  a  horse  or  a  dog  ;  we  have  no  remorse  or 
compunction  in  breaking  mere  human  law :  yet,  so  it  is, 
conscience  excites  all  these  painful  emotions,  confusion, 
foreboding,  self-condemnation  ;  and  on  the  other  hand  it 
sheds  upon  us  a  deep  peace,  a  sense  of  security,  a  resignation, 
and  a  hope,  which  there  is  no  sensible,  no  earthly  object  to 
elicit.  "  The  wicked  flees,  when  no  one  pursueth  "  ;  then 
why  does  he  flee  ?  whence  his  terror  ?  Who  is  it  that  he 
sees  in  solitude,  in  darkness,  in  the  hidden  chambers  of  his 
heart  ?  If  the  cause  of  these  emotions  does  not  belong  to 
this  visible  world,  the  Object  to  which  his  perception  is 
directed  must  be  Supernatural  and  Divine.' 

Let  it  be  noted  that  in  several  letters  Newman  distinctly 
intimates  his  opinion  that  portions  of  his  theory  need  revision. 
He  believed  he  had  hit  on  an  important  line  of  thought.    To 


266  LIFE   OF  CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

ventilate  it  some  one  must  take  the  first  step — and  was  not 
likely  to  break  fresh  ground  without  saying  what  might  need 
some  modification  in  its  expression.  Moreover  its  style  was 
popular  rather  than  scientific. 

'  As  to  my  book/  he  wrote  to  the  Jesuit  Father  Walford, 
*it  is  always  most  difficult  to  be  exact  in  one's  language,  nor 
is  it  necessary  to  be  exactissimus  in  a  work  which  is  a  con- 
versational essay,  not  a  didactic  treatise.  It  is  like  a  military 
reconnaissance,  or  a  party  in  undress,  or  a  house  in  Com- 
mittee ;  it  is  in  English,  not  in  Latin  ;  it  is  a  preliminary 
opening  of  the  ground,  which  must  be  done  at  one's  ease,  if 
it  is  done  at  all' 

Newman's  feelings  when  he  had  finished  his  last  chapter 
are  given  in  a  letter  to  Sister  Imelda  Poole : 

*  In  fest.  SS.  Nominis  Jesu. 

'  My  dear  Rev.  Mother, —  I  said  Mass  this  morning  for  all 
your  intentions. 

'  I  have  just  written  the  last  sentence  of  my  book.  A 
good  day  to  finish  it  on,  especially  considering  the  subject  of 
the  last  few  pages. 

'  But  I  have  not  finished  it  really  :  I  have  but  brought  it 
to  an  end.  I  have  to  correct,  re-write,  retranscribe,  sixty  or 
seventy  pages  of  (what  will  be)  print.  It  will  be  a  month  or 
six  weeks  before  it  is  out. 

'  Oh  !  what  a  toil  it  has  been  to  me — for  three  years — 
how  many  times  I  have  written  it — but  so  I  have  most  of 
the  books  I  have  published,  and  since  last  April  I  have  been 
at  work  almost  incessantly.  I  wonder  what  it  will  turn  out 
to  be  ;  for  I  never  was  so  ignorant  before,  of  the  practical 
good  and  use  of  anything  I  have  written.  Its  use  will  be  a 
matter  of  fact  which  can  only  be  ascertained  by  experience. 

*  I  have  at  times  been  quite  frightened  lest  the  labour  of 
thought  might  inflict  on  me  some  terrible  retribution  at  my 
age.  It  is  my  last  work.  I  say  work  because  "  work  "  implies 
effort — and  there  are  many  things  I  can  do  without  an  effort. 
This  is  the  fifth  constructive  work  which  I  have  done — two 
as  a  Protestant,  three  as  a  Catholic. 

'  Pray  for  me  and  believe  me 

Yours  most  sincerely  in  Xt., 

John  H.  Newman.' 

It  soon  became  known  that  the  book  was  practically  ready, 
and  friends  became  eager  to  learn  the  day  of  publication.     But 


•THE    GRAMMAR    OF   ASSENT'    (1870)  267 

the  work  of  final  correction  was  anxious  and  laborious.     He 
writes  to  Hope-Scott  on  January  2,  1870  : 

'  I  am  engaged,  as  Bellasis  knows,  in  cutting  across  the 
isthmus  of  Suez  ;  though  I  have  got  so  far  as  to  let  the  water 
in  to  the  canal,  there  is  an  awkward  rock  in  mid  channel 
near  the  mouth  which  takes  a  deal  of  picking  and  blasting. 
And  no  man  of  war  will  be  able  to  pass  through,  till  I  get  rid 
of  it.     Thus  I  can't  name  a  day  for  the  opening.' 

The  book  was  ready  in  February  ;  it  was  dedicated  to 
Mr.  Serjeant  Bellasis  '  in  memory  of  a  long,  equable,  and 
sunny  friendship.'  ^  Newman  received  the  specimen  bound 
copy  on  February  21st— his  sixty-ninth  birthday.  On  the 
following  day  he  wrote  to  Henry  Wilberforce  : 

•  The  Oratory  :  Feb.  22nd,  1870. 

'  My  dear  Henry, — Thank  you  for  your  affectionate  letter. 
I  am  now  in  my  70th  year  ;  wonderful ! 

'  I  shall  say  Mass  for  you  all  on  the  24th.  It  is  singular 
how  many  deaths  of  friends  group  round  the  21st.  On  the 
2 1st  is  Miss  Roberts,'  Johnson's  and  Bowden's  aunt,  whom  I 
knew  from  1818.  On  the  22nd  Henry  Bowden's  first  wife, 
and  my  great  friend  Mr.  Mayers.  On  the  23rd  Archdeacon 
Froude,  and  on  the  24th  dear  John.  Besides  on  the  28th  are 
Hurrell  Froude  and  Manuel  Johnson,  and  on  the  13th  Father 
Joseph  Gordon.     Then  on  the  3rd  is  Robert. 

'  I  sent  up  the  last  corrections  of  my  book  on  the  evening 
of  the  20th,  and  a  specimen  of  it  bound  came  down  on  the 
2 1  St.     So  I  date  it  the  21st. 

'  Agnes  shall  have  it,  as  soon  as  it  is  out.  It  has  run 
to  100  pages  more  than  it  ought.  I  hoped  it  would  be 
380 — it  is  487 — and  a  fat  book.  People  will  say,  much 
cry  and  little  wool — so,  all  this  labour  has  issued  in  this 
dry,  humdrum,  concern.  Tell  Agnes  she  is  bound  not  to 
begin  at  the  end,  not  to  skip,  but  to  get  it  up  from  the  first 
.page  on.  And  she  will  have  a  profitable  Lent  exercise  of 
mortification. 

'  Ever  yours  affectionately, 

John  H.  Newman.' 

•  The  story  runs  that  Newman  nearly  passed  the  final  proof  of  the  dedication 
without  noticing  that  the  printer  had  put  'funny'  for  'sunny.'  I  believe  this 
to  be  true  ;  but  further  story  was  also  circulated  (which  is  bibulous)  that  the 
words  ran  in  the  proof  '  in  memory  of  a  long  squabble  and  funny  friendship.' 


268  LIFE  OF   CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

To  Miss  Holmes  he  wrote  on  March  2  : 

'You  will  be  disappointed  with  my  Grammar,  and  so  will 
every  one  be.  It  is  what  it  is,  and  it  is  not  what  it  isn't — and 
what  it  isn't  most  people  will  expect  that  it  is.  It  won't  be 
out  for  lo  days  or  a  fortnight  yet.  It  is  my  last  work — I  say 
"  work,"  for  though  I  may  fiddle-faddle  henceforth,  a  real  piece 
of  labour  will  be  beyond  me.  This  is  what  old  men  cannot 
do — and  when  they  attempt  it,  they  kill  themselves.  An  old 
horse,  or  an  old  piece  of  furniture,  will  last  a  long  time,  if  you 
take  care  of  it, — so  will  the  brain — but  if  you  forget  that  it  is 
old,  it  soon  reminds  you  of  the  fact  by  ceasing  to  be.' 

To  Father  Coleridge  he  wrote  after  the  publication  of  his 
book  : 

'  The  Oratory  :  March  13,  1870. 

*.  .  .  I  have  tried  to  be  as  exact  as  I  possibly  can 
theologically  in  what  I  have  written,  and  hope  I  have 
observed  all  the  landmarks  which  theologians  have  laid 
down,  but  I  know,  even  if  I  succeed  in  having  the  conscious- 
ness of  this  so  far,  still  the  main  question  is,  whether  I 
have  added  anything  to  the  difficult  subject  of  which  I  have 
treated,  or  have  left  it  more  confused  than  I  found  it. 

'  However,  anyhow  I  have  got  a  great  burden  off  my  mind 
— for  20  or  30  years  I  have  felt  it  a  sort  of  duty  to  write 
upon  it,  and  I  have  begun  again  and  again  but  never  could 
get  on,  and  again  and  again  I  have  in  consequence  stopped. 
Now,  whether  I  have  done  it  well  or  ill,  still  I  have  done  it. 
I  have  no  further  call  on  me.  I  have  done  my  best,  and 
given  my  all,  and  I  leave  it  to  Him  to  prosper  or  not,  as  He 
thinks  fit,  for  Whom  I  have  done  it.  I  say  the  incubus  is  off 
my  mind  and  it  is  hardly  too  much  to  say  that  I  look  forward 
to  death  more  happily,  as  if  I  had  less  to  keep  me  here.  I 
suppose  it  will  be  my  last  work — meaning  by  "work"  anxiety 
and  toil.  Myself,  I  don't  think  it  my  worst — but  then  I 
recollect  it  is  often  said  that  an  author  thinks  his  worst  work 
his  best.' 

The  book  did  not  pass  without  criticism,  and  the  criticisms 
led  to  interesting  letters.  Mr.  Leslie  Stephen  and  Mr.  Fitz- 
James  Stephen  both  attacked  it  in  Eraser's  Magazine. 
Others  criticised  it  from  the  scholastic  standpoint.  It  was 
of  course  contrary  to  scholastic  precedent  to  dwell  almost 
exclusively  as  he  had  done  on  Conscience  as  the  argument 
for  the  existence  of  God.  Mr.  Brownlow  wrote  to  him  as 
though  he  had  recognised  no  argument  for  Theism  from  the 


'THE    GRAMMAR    OF   ASSENT'  (1870)  269 

visible  creation  ;  but  Newman  pointed  out  that  this  was  an 
exaggeration.  It  is  interesting  that  he  had  been  suspicious 
of  Paley's  argument  from  '  Design,'  even  before  the  evolution 
theory  suggested  a  weak  point  in  it.  But  the  argument 
from  '  Order '  was  recognised  in  the  '  Grammar  of  Assent.' 
He  writes  thus  to  Mr.  Brownlow  ^  on  the  subject  : 

'The  Oratory  :  April  13th,  1870. 

'  My  dear  Brownlow, — It  is  very  pleasant  to  me  to  hear 
what  you  say  about  my  new  book — which  has  given  me  great 
anxiety.  I  have  spoken  of  the  argument  for  the  being  of 
a  God  from  the  visible  Creation  at  page  70  paragraph  i. 
"  Order  implies  purpose  "  &c.  I  have  not  insisted  on  the 
argument  {rom  design,  because  I  am  writing  for  the  19th  Cen- 
tury, by  which,  as  represented  by  its  philosophers,  design  is 
not  admitted  as  proved.  And  to  tell  the  truth,  though  I 
should  not  wish  to  preach  on  the  subject,  for  40  years  I  have 
been  unable  to  see  the  logical  force  of  the  argument  myself 
I  believe  in  design  because  I  believe  in  God  ;  not  in  a  God 
because  I  see  design.  You  will  say  that  the  19th  Century 
does  not  believe  in  conscience  either — true — but  then  it  does 
not  believe  in  a  God  at  all.  Something  I  must  assume,  and 
in  assuming  conscience  I  assume  what  is  least  to  assume,  and 
what  most  will  admit.  Half  the  world  knows  nothing  of  the 
argument  from  design — and,  when  you  have  got  it,  you  do 
not  prove  by  it  the  moral  attributes  of  God — except  very 
faintly.  Design  teaches  me  power,  skill,  and  goodness,  not 
sanctity,  not  mercy,  not  a  future  judgment,  which  three  are 
of  the  essence  of  religion.' 

Before  the  end  of  the  year  Father  Harper,  the  Jesuit,  had 
written  an  elaborate  attack  on  the  book  from  the  standpoint 
of  a  thoroughgoing  scholastic. 

Of  this  criticism,  which  appeared  in  successive  articles  in 
the  Month,  Newman  wrote  thus  to  Father  Coleridge  : 

'The  Oratory:  Febry,  5,  1871. 

'My  dear  Fr.  Coleridge, — I  began  to  read  Fr.  Harper's 
papers,  but  they  were  (to  my  ignorance  of  theology  and 
philosophy)  so  obscure,  and  (to  my  own  knowledge  of  my 
real  meaning)  so  hopelessly  misrepresentations  of  the  book, 
that  I  soon  gave  it  over.  As  to  my  answering,  I  think  I 
never  answered  any  critique  on  any  writing  of  mine,  in  my 
life.  My  "  Essay  on  Development "  was  assailed  by  Dr. 
Brownson  on  one  side,  and  Mr.  Archer  Butler  on  the  other, 

'  Afterwards  Bishop  of  Clifton, 


270  LIFE   OF   CARDINAL  NEWMAN 

at  great  length.  Brownson,  I  believe,  thought  me  a  Pantheist 
— and  sent  me  his  work  to  Rome,  by  some  American  Bishop. 
Mr.  Butler  has  been  lauded  by  his  people  as  having  smashed 
me.  Now  at  the  end  of  twenty  years,  I  am  told  from  Rome 
that  I  am  guilty  of  the  late  Definition  by  my  work  on  De- 
velopment, so  orthodox  has  it  been  found  in  principle,  and 
on  the  other  side  Bampton  Lectures  have  been  preached,  I 
believe,  allowing  that  principle.  The  Guardian  acknowledges 
the  principle  as  necessary,  and  the  Scotch  Editors  of  Dorner's 
great  work  on  our  Lord's  Person,  cautioning  of  course  the 
world  against  me^  admit  that  development  of  doctrine  is  an 
historical  fact.  I  shall  not  live  another  20  years,  but,  as  I 
waited  patiently,  as  regards  my  former  work,  for  "  Time  to  be 
the  Father  of  Truth,"  so  now  I  leave  the  judgment  between 
Fr.  Harper  and  me  to  the  sure  future. 

*  Father  Mazio  said  of  my  "  Development,"  "  I  do  not 
know  how  it  is,  but  so  it  is,  that  all  these  startling  things, 
Mr.  Newman  brings  them  round  at  the  end  to  a  good  con- 
clusion," and  so  now  the  Quarterly  (if  I  recollect)  talks  in  a 
kind  sense  of  my  surprises,  and  the  Edinburgh  of  my 
audacity.  I  do  not  mean  myself  to  surprise  people  or  to  be 
audacious,  but  somehow,  now  at  the  end  of  life,  I  have  from 
experience  a  confidence  in  myself,  and,  (though  with  little  of 
St.  Cyprian's  sanctity,  but  with  more  of  truth,  as  I  trust,  in 
my  cause)  I  am  led  to  take  to  myself  some  portion  of  the 
praise  given  him  in  Keble's  line,  and  to  "  trust  the  lore  of 
my  own  loyal  heart."  I  trust  to  having  some  portion  of  an 
"inductive  sense,"  founded  in  right  instincts. 

'  My  book  is  to  show  that  a  right  moral  state  of  mind 
germinates  or  even  generates  good  intellectual  principles. 
This  proposition  rejoices  the  Quarterly,  as  if  it  was  a  true 
principle — it  shocks  the  Edinburgh,  as  if  Pascal  and  others 
were  much  more  philosophical  in  saying  that  religion  or 
religiousness  is  not  ultimately  based  on  reason.  And  the 
Guardian  says  that  whether  this  view  will  or  will  not  hold 
is  the  problem  now  before  the  intellectual  world,  which 
coming  years  is  to  decide.  Let  those,  who  think  I  ought  to 
be  answered,  those  Catholics,  first  master  the  great  difficulty, 
the  great  problem,  and  then,  if  they  don't  like  my  way  of 
meeting  it  find  another.     Syllogizing  won't  meet  it. 

'  You  see  then  I  have  not  the  very  shadow  of  a  reason 
against  Fr.  Harper's  future  papers,  as  I  think  they  will  all 
go  ultimately,  after  I  am  gone,  to  the  credit  of  my  work. 

'  While  I  say  this,  of  course  I  am  sensible  it  may  be  full 
of  defects,  and  certainly  characterized  by  incompleteness  and 


'THE   GRAMMAR   OF   ASSENT'  (1870)  271 

crudeness,  but  it  is  something  to  have  started  a  problem,  and 
mapped  in  part  a  country,  if  I  have  done  nothing  more. 

'  Yours  most  sincerely, 

John  H.  Newman.' 

It  was  a  fact  of  great  importance  at  the  moment  that 
W.  G.  Ward,  who  had  opposed  Newman  so  strongly  on  the 
question  of  Papal  claims,  welcomed  the  '  Grammar '  enthu- 
siastically in  an  article  in  the  Dublin  Review.  W.  G.  Ward's 
reputation  for  staunch  orthodoxy  made  this  fact  largely 
outweigh  in  the  general  Catholic  mind  the  opposition  to  it 
on  the  part  of  Father  Harper,  the  Jesuit,  in  the  Month^on  the 
lines  of  scholastic  philosophy. 

W.  G.  Ward  helped  the  immediate  acceptance  of  the 
book  both  by  intimating  his  concurrence  with  its  general  line 
of  thought,  and  by  pointing  out  that  some  of  the  views  set 
forth  by  Newman  and  criticised  by  such  modern  scholastics 
as  Father  Harper  had  been  already  urged  by  the  best 
thinkers  among  the  schoolmen.  Moreover,  Mr.  Ward  wrote 
the  following  statement — vivid  if  slightly  paradoxical — of 
the  general  difficulty  which  Newman's  book  was  designed  to 
answer,  a  difficulty  which  its  hostile  Catholic  critics  appeared 
not  to  apprehend,  and  to  which  they  certainly  did  not  offer 
any  alternative  solution. 

'  Catholics  are  taught  (so  the  non-Christian  philosopher 
objects)  to  regard  it  as  a  sacred  duty  that  they  shall  hold, 
most  firmly  and  without  a  shadow  of  doubt,  the  truth  of 
certain  marvels  which  are  alleged  to  have  taken  place  nine- 
teen centuries  ago.  As  to  examining  the  evidence  for  those 
truths,  the  great  mass  of  Catholics  are  of  course  philo- 
sophically uncultured  and  simply  incompetent  to  such  a  task. 
But  even  were  they  competent  thereto,  they  are  prevented 
from  attempting  it.  Except  a  select  few  of  them,  they  are 
all  forbidden  to  read  or  knowingly  to  hear  one  syllable  of 
argument  on  the  other  side.  Under  such  circumstances, 
proof  for  their  creed  they  can  have  none  ;  any  more  than  a 
judge  can  have  proof  who  has  only  heard  witnesses  on  one 
side,  and  them  not  cross-examined.  So  far  from  propor- 
tioning their  assent  to  the  evidence  on  which  their  doctrine 
rests,  the  assent  claimed  from  them  is  the  very  highest,  while 
the  evidence  afforded  them  is  less  than  the  least. 

'  But  take  even  any  one  of  the  select  few  who  arc  per- 
mitted to  study  both  sides  of  the  question.     He  will  tell  you 


272  LIFE   OF  CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

quite  frankly  that  his  belief  was  as  firm  before  his  exami- 
nation as  it  is  now ;  nay,  and  that  he  regards  it  as  a  sin, 
which  unrepented  would  involve  him  in  eternal  misery,  if  he 
allowed  himself  so  much  as  one  deliberate  doubt  on  the 
truth  of  Catholicity.  I  place  before  him  some  serious  diffi- 
culty, which  tells  against  the  most  central  facts  of  his 
religion  :  he  had  never  heard  of  the  difficulty  before,  and 
he  is  not  now  at  all  sure  that  he  will  be  able  to  answer  it. 
I  should  have  expected,  were  it  not  for  my  knowledge  of 
Catholics,  that  the  confidence  of  his  conviction  would  be 
diminished  by  this  circumstance  ;  for,  plainly,  an  unanswered 
difficulty  is  no  slight  abatement  from  the  body  of  proof  on 
which  his  creed  reposes.  But  he  says  unblushingly  that  if 
he  were  to  study  for  ten  years  without  seeing  how  to  meet 
the  point  I  have  suggested,  his  belief  in  his  Church,  whose 
claim  of  authority  he  recognizes  as  divinely  authorized, 
would  be  in  no  respect  or  degree  affected  by  the  circum- 
stance. 

'  Nor  is  it  for  themselves  alone,  but  for  all  mankind,  that 
Catholics  prescribe  this  rebellion  against  reason.  They 
maintain  that  every  human  being,  to  whom  their  Gospel  is 
preached,  is  under  an  obligation  of  accepting  with  firmest 
faith  the  whole  mass  of  Catholic  facts — the  miraculous  Con- 
ception, Resurrection,  Ascension,  etc. ;  while  it  is  simply 
undeniable  that  999  out  of  every  1000  are  absolutely 
incapable  of  appreciating  ever  so  distantly  the  evidence  on 
which  these  facts  are  alleged  to  repose. 

'  Nor,  to  do  them  justice,  do  they  show  the  slightest 
disposition  to  conceal  or  veil  their  maxims.  The  Vatican 
Council  itself  has  openly  anathematized  all  those  who  shall 
allege  that  Catholics  may  lawfully  suspend  their  judgment 
on  the  truth  of  Catholicity,  until  they  have  obtained  for 
themselves  scientific  proof  of  its  truth.' 

'  I  have  no  general  prejudice  against  Catholics  ;  on  the 
contrary,  I  think  many  of  them  possess  some  first-rate 
qualities.  But  while  their  avowed  intellectual  maxims  are 
those  above  recited,  I  must  regard  them  as  external  to  the 
pale  of  intellectual  civilization.  I  have  no  more  ground  on 
which  I  can  argue  with  a  Catholic  than  I  have  ground  on 
which  I  can  argue  with  a  savage.' 

'  'Si  quis  dixerit  parem  esse  conditionem  fidelium,  etc.,  ita  ut  Catholici 
justam  causam  habere  possint  fidem,  quam  sub  Ecclesiae  magisterio  jam  susceperunt, 
assensu  suspense  in  dubium  vocandi  donee  demonstrationem  scientificam  credi- 
bilitatis  et  veritatis  lidei  suae  absolverint,  anathema  sit.' — Dei  Films,  c.  3, 
canon  6. 


'THE    GRAMMAR   OF   ASSENT'    (1870)  273 

In  private,  as  well  as  in  public,  W.  G.  Ward  expressed 
his  admiration  of  the  work,  and  spoke  of  it  as  forming  the 
basis  of  a  new  and  important  Catholic  philosophy.  He 
wrote  his  congratulations  to  the  author,  and  Newman  replied 
to  him  as  follows  : 

'  My  dear  Ward, — It  is  a  very  great  pleasure  to  me  to 
receive  your  letter,  both  as  expressing  a  favourable  opinion 
of  my  book  and  as  recording  a  point  of  agreement  between 
us  on  an  important  subject.  It  would  be  strange  indeed  if  I 
were  not  quite  aware,  as  I  am,  that  there  are  portions  of  my 
theory  which  require  finishing  or  revising.  I  expect  it  to  be 
my  last  work,  meaning  by  work  labour  and  toil, 

'  Yours  affectionately  in  Christ, 

John  H.  Newman.' 

To  Aubrey  de  Vere  he  wrote  to  much  the  same  effect : 

'  You  must  not  think  that  I  am  sure  myself  that  I  have 
done  any  great  thing — for  I  have  felt  very  little  confidence 
in  it — though  words  like  yours,  and  you  are  not  the  only 
person  who  has  used  such,  are  a  very  great  encouragement  to 
me — but  I  could  not  help  feeling  that  I  had  something  to 
give  out  whatever  its  worth,  and  I  felt  haunted  with  a  sort  of 
responsibility,  and  almost  a  weight  on  my  conscience,  if  I 
did  not  speak  it,  and  yet  I  could  not.  So  that  it  is  the 
greatest  possible  relief  at  length  to  have  got  it  off  my 
mind — as  if  I  heard  the  words  "  he  has  done  what  he  could." 
And,  while  I  say  this,  I  really  am  not  taking  for  granted 
that  your  favourable  criticism  is  the  true  one — and  I 
recollect  that  what  a  man  thinks  his  best  work  is  often  his 
worst.  But  then  I  think,  too,  that  sometimes  a  man's 
failures  do  more  good  to  the  world  or  to  his  cause  than  his 
best  successes — and  then  I  feel  as  if  I  could  die  happier  now 
that  I  have  no  Essay  on  Assent  to  write,  and  I  think  I  shall 
never  write  another  work,  meaning  by  work  a  something 
which  is  an  anxiety  and  a  labour.  "  Man  goeth  forth  to  his 
work  and  to  his  labours  until  the  evening,"  and  my  evening 
is  surely  come — though  not  my  night.' 

W.  G.  Ward  pursued  the  subject  in  the  Dublin  Review  in 
several  articles.  He  owned  to  certain  minor  differences  with 
Newman's  book.  But,  as  I  have  said,  he  insisted  not  only 
upon  its  value,  but  on  the  consistency  of  its  most  character- 
istic positions  with  views  held  by  the  greater  schoolmen  of 
earlier  and  more  recent  times.  He  chose  Father  Klcutgen 
VOL.  II.  T 


274  LIFE   OF   CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

to  represent  the  latter  and  de  Lugo  the  former.  On  the 
knowledge  of  God  through  Conscience,  and  on  the  quasi- 
instinctive  apprehension  by  the  religious  mind  '  with  a  heart 
and  an  eye  for  truth '  of  the  reasons  both  for  Theism  and  for 
Christianity,  his  citations  were  equally  effective.' 

This  article  in  the  Dublin  told  strongly  in  favour  of  the 
view  that  there  was  nothing  in  Newman's  treatment  different 
in  kind  from  that  of  the  really  great  Catholic  thinkers, 
scholastic  or  other  ;  that  the  opposition  to  his  book  came 
mainly  from  those  who  were  not  thinkers — who  judged 
only  by  traditional  modes  of  expression  which  were  current 
in  the  text-books,  without  realising  the  ideas  which  were 
involved. 

The  book  had  a  wide  circulation,  and  was  read  in  the 
families  which  specially  loved  its  author,  by  those  who  did 
not  understand  it  as  well  as  by  those  who  did. 

'  I  am  glad  you  like  my  Grammar  of  Assent,'  Newman 
writes  to  a  friend,  '  and  am  amused  that  you  should  turn  it 
to  the  purposes  of  educating  Margaret.     "  Thirty  days  hath 


1  Against  those  who  objected  to  Newman's  speaking  of  our  knowledge  of  God 
through  Conscience  as  though  it  were  a  heterodox  doctrine  of  Divine  immanence 
he  could  quote  with  effect  the  words  of  Kleutgen  that  God  '  makes  Himself  felt 
I  within  us  by  his  moral  law  as  an  August  Power  to  which  we  are  subject.' 
Against  those  who  objected  that  Newman's  '  illative  sense  '  placed  reason  on  a 
level  with  irrational  instinct  he  quoted  the  words  of  the  same  writer  :  •  how  many 

(truths  there  are  concerning  duty,  concerning  nature  and  art,  which  a  man  of  good 
judgment  knows  with  perfect  accuracy  without  being  distinctly  cognisant  how  he 
passes  in  successive  judgments  from  one  truth  to  another.'  Kleutgen  goes  so  far 
f  as  to  use  the  very  word  '  instinct '  of  the  spontaneous  knowledge  of  God  of  which 
Newman  had  spoken  as  coming  to  us  through  our  Conscience.  He  represents 
the  object  of  a  philosophy  of  Theism  as  being  to  show  that  the  instinct  is 
rational.  '  Why,'  he  writes,  '  should  not  science  take  as  the  object  of  its  re- 
searches that  knowledge  of  God  which  we  instinctively  possess  .  .  .  philosophy 
is  able  and  is  bound  to  show  that  that  method  of  reasoning  from  the  world's 
existence  to  God's  to  which  our  intellect  is  spontaneously  impelled,  is  conformable 
to  the  clearly  known  laws  of  our  thought. ' 

De  Lugo  speaks  expressly  of  the  illative  sense  as  '  virtus  intellectus  et 
voluntatis,  ut  uno  actu  brevissimo  et  subtilissimo  attingant  compendiose  totam 
illam  seriem  motivorum,'  etc. 

W.  G.  Ward  himself  goes  a  step  further  in  Newman's  direction,  maintaining 
that  even  after  philosophy  has  done  its  best,  the  still  unanalysed  motives  for 
belief — its  '  implicit  grounds  '  as  he  calls  them — remain  the  strongest  in  the 
evidences  for  Christianity  and  Catholicity,  as  the  Conscience  presents  the  strongest 
argument  for  Theism. 


'THE   GRAMMAR   OF   ASSENT'   (1870)  275 

September  "  and  the  Multiplication  Table  will  do  no  harm. 
Reading  itself  is  only  a  trick  of  artificial  memory.' 

He  had,  as  we  have  seen,  been  especially  anxious  to  help 
those  who,  from  their  own  lack  of  technical  knowledge,  were 
tried  by  the  popular  arguments  of  the  day  against  religious 
belief.  He  was  gratified  to  find  that  the  chapter  on  Certitude 
had  had  just  the  effect  he  desired  in  the  case  of  his  friend 
Miss  Holmes : 

'  It  will  please  me  much,'  he  writes  to  her  on  March  26, 
'if  you  say  of  the  last  100  pages  what  you  say  for  the 
chapter  on  certitude — for  they  were  written  especially  for 
those  who  can't  go  into  questions  of  the  inspiration  of 
Scripture,  authenticity  of  books,  passages  in  the  Fathers,  &c. 
&c. — especially  for  such  ladies  as  are  bullied  by  infidels  and 
do  not  know  how  to  answer  them — a  misfortune  which  I  fear 
is  not  rare  in  this  day.  I  wanted  to  show  that,  keeping 
to  broad  facts  of  history,  which  everyone  knows  and  no  one 
can  doubt,  there  is  evidence  and  reason  enough  for  an  honest 
inquirer  to  believe  in  revelation.' 

He  sent  the  book  also  to  those  who  felt  the  deficiencies 
of  current  apologetic — who  desiderated  a  more  candid  obser- 
vation of  facts,  in  dealing  with  the  mixed  subjects  covered  by 
apologetic  and  theology.  Many  Catholic  writers  seemed  to 
him  to  apply  exclusively  the  deductive  method,  belonging 
to  theology  proper,  to  fields  in  which  historical  evidence  is 
both  weighty  and  relevant.  The  appositeness  and  value  of 
the  Baconian  method  appeared  to  be  ignored  by  them.  The 
'  Grammar  of  Assent,'  with  its  minute  psychological  observa- 
tions, was  a  step  in  the  desired  direction,  and  Newman  sent 
it  to  one  who  had  expressed  to  him  the  above  criticism.  In 
reply  to  his  enthusiastic  letter  of  thanks  Newman  wrote  as 
follows  : 

'  My  dear  Sir, — I  thank  you  for  the  very  kind  way  in 
which  you  have  received  my  book. 

'  The  only  drawback  to  my  satisfaction  is  that  you  expect 
much  more  from  it  than  you  will  find.  You  have  truly  said 
that  we  need  a  Novidu  Orgamtvi  for  theology,  and  I  shall  be 
truly  glad  if  I  shall  be  found  to  have  made  any  suggestion 
which  will  aid  the  formation  of  such  a  calculus.  But  it  must 
be  the  strong  conception  and  the  one  work  of  a  great  genius, 

T  2 


276  LIFE   OF   CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

not  the  obiter   attempt    of  a    person    like    myself  who   has 
already  attempted  many  things  and  is  at  the  end  of  his  days. 

'  I  am.  my  dear  Sir, 

Most  truly  yours, 

John  H.  Newman.' 

The  author  had  opportunities  of  learning  the  effect  of  his 
book  on  persons  in  doubt.  One  such  reader  expressed  her 
objections  to  its  line  of  argument  in  a  letter  to  Mr.  Brownlovv, 
forwarded  by  him  to  Newman,  who  thus  replied  : 

'The  Oratory  :  April  29,  1871. 

*  .  .  .  As  you  will  see,  she  confuses  the  conclusion  from 
evidence,  with  the  act  of  assent  which  depends  on  the  wi/l. 
No  one  on  earth  can  have  evidence  strictly  sufficient  for  an 
absolute  conclusion,  but  I  may  have  evidence  so  strong  that 
I  may  see  it  is  my  duty  to  give  my  absolute  assent  to  it. 
I  have  not  absolute  demonstration  that  my  father  was  not 
a  murderer,  or  my  intimate  friend  a  sharper,  but  it  would 
not  only  be  heartless,  but  irrational,  not  to  disbelieve  these 
hypotheses  or  possibilities  utterly — and,  anyhow,  in  matter  of 
fact  men  generally  do  disbelieve  them  absolutely — and  there- 
fore the  Church,  as  the  Minister  of  God,  asks  us  for  nothing 
more  in  things  supernatural  than  common  sense,  than  nature 
asks  of  us  in  matters  of  this  world.  I  believe  absolutely  that 
there  is  a  North  America — and  that  the  United  States  is  a 
Republic  with  a  President — why  then  do  I  not  absolutely 
believe,  though  I  see  it  not,  that  there  is  a  Heaven  and  that 
God  is  there  ?  If  you  say  that  there  is  more  evidence  for  the 
United  States  than  for  Heaven,  that  is  intelligible— but  it  is 
not  a  question  of  more  or  less  ;  since  the  utmost  evidence 
only  leads  to  probability  and  yet  you  believe  absolutely  in 
the  United  States,  it  is  no  reason  against  believing  in  heaven 
absolutely,  though  you  have  not  "  experience "  of  it.  But 
you  have  said  all  this  to  her. 

'  She  says  there  are  persons  who  are  certain  of  the 
Christian  religion  because  they  have  strictly  proved  it — no  one 
is  certain  for  this  reason.  Every  one  believes  by  an  act  of 
will,  more  or  less  ruling  his  intellect  (as  a  matter  of  duty)  to 
believe  absolutely  beyond  the  evidence, 

'She  says  "acts  of  certitude  are  always  made  about 
things  of  which  our  senses  or  our  reasons  do,  or  can  take 
cognizance  "—our  senses  do  not  tell  us  that  there  is  a 
"  United  States  "  and  our  reason  does  not  demonstrate  it, 
only    makes  it  probable.      Try  to  analyze  the  reasons  zvhy 


'THE   GRAMMAR   OF   ASSENT'    (1870)  277 

one  believes  in  the  United  States.  We  not  only  do  not, 
but  we  could  not  make  a  demonstration  ;  yet  we  assent 
absolutely. 

'  "  How  can  any  human  testimony  make  me  quite  certain 
that  I  am  hearing  a  message  from  God  ? "  None  can,  but 
human  testimony  may  be  such  as  to  make  me  see  it  is  my 
duty  to  be  certain.  Action  is  distinct  [from]  a  conclusion — 
yet  a  conclusion  may  be  such  as  to  make  me  see  that  action 
is  a  duty — and  so  belief  is  not  a  conclusion — yet  [a  conclusion] 
may  be  such  as  to  make  me  see  that  belief  is  a  duty — And, 
as  I  cannot  act  merely  because  I  ought  to  act,  so  I  cannot 
believe  merely  because  I  ought  to  believe, 

'  I  may  wish  both  to  act  and  to  believe — though  I  can 
do  neither — and,  as  I  ask  God  for  grace  to  enable  me  to  act, 
so  I  ask  Him  for  grace  to  enable  me  to  believe. 

'  "  It  is  the  gift  of  God — why  does  He  not  give  it  me  ?  " 
Because  you  do  not  perseveringly  come  to  Him  for  the  gift, 
and  do  your  part  by  putting  aside  all  those  untrue  and 
unreal  and  superfluous  arguings. 


:Vfo»^  <t^  l^  i^ 


' "  To  see  and  touch  the  supernatural  with  the  eye  of  my 
soul,  with  its  oivn  experience,  this  is  what  I  want  to  do." 
Yes,  it  is — You  wish  to  "  Walk,  not  by  faith,  but  by  sight", 
If  you  had  experience,  how  would  it  he  faith  ?  '*^'  -^-y^f'--^ 

Of  course  everyone  must  begm  with  reason.      It  your  u.  i(^  j^    ^ 
friend  cannot   bring  herself  to    feel    that  what  I  have  said  ^ 

above,  which  is  what  our  theologians  say,  is  so  far  rational 
that  she  is  bound  to  act  on  it,  I  do  not  see  what  can  be  said. 
But  I  think  it  plain  that  she  is  no  fit  recipient  of  the 
Sacraments,  unless  she  feels  that  faith  is  ever  viore  than,  ever 
distinct  from,  an  inference  from  premisses,  and  tries  and  prays 
and  desires  with  all  her  heart  to  exercise  it.  But,  while  she 
persists  in  saying  that  it  is  irrational,  or  unreasonable,  or 
unphilosophical,  or  unjustifiable,  because  it  is  more  than 
reason,  that  is,  more  than  an  inference,  while  she  thinks  that 
in  order  to  be  true  to  the  law  of  her  mind,  to  nature,  to 
herself,  she  must  not  aim  at  any  belief  stronger  than  the 
premisses,  whereas  human  nature,  human  sense,  and  the  laws 
of  the  mind,  just  say  the  reverse,  I  don't  think  she  can  be 
absolved. 

'  I  have  answered  you  to  the  best  of  my  ability,  and  pray- 
ing the  Giver  of  all  grace  to  guide  you  and  to  disenchant 
her,  for  she  is  like  a  fly  in  a  spider's  web. 

'John  H.  Newman.' 

Six  months  after  the  '  Grammar  '  was  published,  Newman 
wrote  as  follows  in  his  journal  : 


278  LIFE   OF   CARDINAL    NEWMAN 

'  Oct.  30,  1870.  How  unpleasant  it  is  to  read  former 
memoranda — I  can't  quite  tell  why.  They  read  affected, 
unreal,  egotistical,  petty,  fussy.  There  is  much  in  the  above, 
which  I  should  tear  out  and  burn,  if  I  did  as  I  wi.shed.  One 
writes  in  particular  humours — Perhaps  if  I  looked  over  it  six 
months  hence,  I  should  like  what  now  I  don't  like.  I  wonder 
whether  I  shall  burn  it  all  when  I  am  going  to  die.  Perhaps 
I  shall  leave  it  for  what  is  valuable  in  it. 

'  Since  I  published  my  Essay  on  Assent  last  March,  I 
have  meant  to  make  a  memorandum  on  the  subject  of  it.  It 
is  the  upshot  of  a  very  long  desire  and  effort — I  don't  know 
the  worth  of  it,  but  I  am  happier  to  have  at  length  done  it 
and  got  it  off  my  hands.  Authors  (or  at  least  I)  can  as 
little  foretell  what  their  books  will  be  before  they  are  written, 
as  fathers  can  foretell  whether  their  children  will  be  boys  or 
girls,  dark  or  fair,  gentle  or  fiery,  clever  or  stupid.  The  book 
itself  I  have  aimed  at  writing  these  twenty  years  ; — and  now 
that  it  is  written  I  do  not  quite  recognise  it  for  what  it  was 
meant  to  be,  though  I  suppose  it  is  such.  I  have  made  more 
attempts  at  writing  it  than  I  can  enumerate.  .  .  . 

'  These  attempts,  though  some  of  them  close  upon  others, 
were,  I  think,  all  distinct.  They  were  like  attempts  to  get 
into  a  labyrinth,  or  to  find  the  weak  point  in  the  defences 
of  a  fortified  place.  I  could  not  get  on,  and  found  myself 
turned  back,  utterly  baffled.  Yet  I  felt  I  ought  to  bring  out 
what  my  mind  saw,  but  could  not  grasp,  whatever  it  was 
worth.  I  don't  say  it  is  worth  much,  now  that  it  has  come 
out,  but  I  felt  as  if  I  did  not  like  to  die  before  I  had  said  it. 
It  may  suggest  something  better  and  truer  than  it  to  another, 
though  worth  little  in  itself  Thus  I  went  on  year  after  year. 
At  last,  when  I  was  up  at  Glion  over  the  Lake  of  Geneva,  it 
struck  me  :  "  You  are  wrong  in  beginning  with  certitude — 
certitude  is  only  a  kind  of  assent — you  should  begin  with 
contrasting  assent  and  inference."  On  that  hint  I  spoke, 
finding  it  a  key  to  my  own  ideas.' 


CHAPTER   XXIX 

THE   VATICAN    COUNCIL     (1869-1870) 

It  is  sometimes  suggested  that  Newman's  line  of  action 
in  1869  and  1870  in  connection  with  the  Vatican  Council 
was  an  episode  in  his  life  which  showed  a  certain  deficiency 
in  whole-hearted  loyalty  to  the  Holy  See,  and  were  best 
forgotten  by  his  admirers.  His  letters  show  that  he  him- 
self took  a  very  different  view  from  this  even  after  all  the 
excitement  of  controversy  had  subsided.  If  ever  he  acted 
against  his  inclinations  and  from  a  stern  sense  of  duty  it  was 
at  this  crisis.  He  had  a  full  consciousness  that  many  good 
but  not  far-seeing  people,  whom  he  respected,  would  condemn 
his  attitude.  He  was  opposing  what  was  put  forward  as 
being  the  wish  of  a  Pontiff  whom  he  especially  loved  and 
revered  for  his  personal  qualities  even  apart  from  his  sacred 
office.  But  throughout  he  believed  himself  to  be  defending 
the  interests  of  Catholic  theology  against  extremists  who  were 
— without  realising  the  effects  of  their  action — setting  it  aside. 
Like  Archbishop  Sibour,  he  was  pleading  the  cause  of  the 
immemorial  constitution  of  the  Church  against  the  innova- 
tions of  advocates  of  a  new  absolutism.  An  Ecumenical 
Council,  according  to  Catholic  theology,  involves  genuine 
deliberation.  He  had  been  invited  by  the  Pontiff  himself  to 
contribute  material  towards  this  deliberation.  He  was  con- 
stantly consulted  by  Bishop  Ullathorne,  Bishop  Clifford, 
Bishop  Dupanloup,  and  other  prelates.  He  had  then  the 
call,  in  his  own  sphere,  to  make  a  real  contribution  to  the 
process  of  deliberation — that  is  to  say,  to  declare  what  his 
own  judgment  was,  but  with  the  full  intention  of  submitting 
to  the  Church  when  it  had  decided  the  matter.  The  Pope 
was  constantly  approached  with  representations  on  behalf 
of  one  view  of  the  question  :  was  it  not  only  fair,  reasonable, 


28o  LIFE    OF   CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

and  loyal  to  bring  before  him  and  the  Council  the  full  force 
of  another  view  held  by  many  of  the  Bishops  themselves  ? 

As  we  have  seen,  there  were  men  of  influence  who  were 
speaking  as  though  truth  was  to  be  directly  revealed  by  the 
Holy    Spirit   to   the    Council,    and    scientific  theology,  and 
deliberation  with  a  view  to   exactness  of  expression,  were 
unimportant.     Against  this  growing  tendency  he  entered  his 
earnest  protest  by  word  and  by  deed.     No  doubt  his  protest 
was    regarded    by   men    whose  education  was  not  equal    to 
their   piety    as    showing   a  want    of  confidence  in  the  Holy 
Spirit's  guidance.     So,  too,  Silas  Marner  deemed  it  a  want  of 
faith  to  doubt  that  the  Holy  Spirit  would  interfere  by  preter- 
natural agencies  to  guide  the  decision  by  lot.     And   when 
that  decision  turned  out  to  be  false  he  lost  his  faith  in  God. 
Such  is  the  Nemesis  which  follows  the  identification  of  God's 
guidance  with    the    beliefs    of    the    superstitious    as   to    its 
nature  and  degree.       The  very  fact  that  Newman's  protest 
was  objected  to  showed  how  necessary  it  was,  and  how  the 
commonplaces     of     theology    were    being    practically    dis- 
regarded.    He  was  but  acting  on  the  words  he  had  himself 
written  five  years  earlier,  in  the  '  Apologia,'  on  the  determining 
factors    in    the  proceedings    of  Ecumenical    Councils.     The 
Fathers,  he  wrote,  'have  been  guided  in  their  decisions  by 
the  commanding  genius  of  individuals,  sometimes  young  and 
of  inferior  rank.     Not,'  he  added,  '  that  uninspired  intellect 
overruled  the  superhuman  gift  which  was  committed  to  the 
Council,  which  would   be  a  self-contradictory  assertion,  but 
that  in  that  process  of  enquiry  and  deliberation  which  ended 
in  an  infallible  enunciation  individual  effort  was  paramount.' 
He  gave  the  instances  of  Malchion,  a  mere  presbyter,  at  the 
Council  of  Antioch  ;  of  Athanasius,  a  deacon,  at  Nicea ;  of 
Salmeron,  a  priest,  at  Trent.     That  he  himself,  though  a  mere 
priest,  should,  when   invited  to  contribute  to  the  theological 
deliberations  preliminary  to  the  Vatican  Council,  do  his  best 
to   make    them    real — that   he   should    do    something   very 
different  from  merely  uncritically  acquiescing  in   the  treat- 
ment of   a  definition    of   doctrine   which    involved  a  state- 
ment of  historical  fact,  as  though  it  were,  in  his  own  words, 
'  a  luxury  of  devotion  '—was,  then,  to  be  true  to  Catholic 
practice    in    the    past    in  the  face   of  dangerous  innovation. 


THE   VATICAN   COUNCIL   (1869-1870)  281 

And,  moreover,  while  the  principle  of  full  deliberation  was 
the  tradition  in  possession,  it  was  also  more  than  ever  neces- 
sary now  when  historical  criticism  was  so  rapidly  gaining  in 
accuracy,  and  so  many  acute  and  jealous  eyes  would  test 
and  criticise  the  proceedings  of  the  Council. 

For  a  moment  he  had  hesitated  whether  he  should  not 
accept  the  invitation  of  the  Holy  Father  and  Monsignor 
Dupanloup  to  attend  at  Rome  in  person  for  the  theological 
conferences  in  which  the  schemata  of  the  Council  were  to  be 
prepared.     But  in  the  event  he  had  declined. 

'  Don't  be  annoyed,'  he  wrote  to  Sister  Maria  Pia  on 
February  10,  1869.  '  I  am  more  happy  as  I  am,  than  in  any 
other  way.  I  can't  bear  the  kind  of  trouble  which  I  should 
have,  if  I  were  brought  forward  in  any  public  way.  Recollect, 
I  could  not  be  in  the  Council,  unless  I  were  a  Bishop — and 
really  and  truly  I  am  7iot  a  theologian.  A  theologian  is  one 
who  has  mastered  theology — who  can  say  how  many 
opinions  there  are  on  every  point,  what  authors  have  taken 
which,  and  which  is  the  best — who  can  discriminate  exactly 
between  proposition  and  proposition,  argument  and  argu- 
ment, who  can  pronounce  which  are  safe,  which  allowable, 
which  dangerous — who  can  trace  the  history  of  doctrines  in 
successive  centuries,  and  apply  the  principles  of  former 
times  to  the  conditions  of  the  present.  This  it  is  to  be  a 
theologian — this  and  a  hundred  things  besides — which  I  am 
not,  and  never  shall  be.  Like  St.  Gregory  Nazianzen,  I  like 
going  on  my  own  way,  and  having  my  time  my  own,  living 
without  pomp  or  state,  or  pressing  engagements.  Put  me 
into  official  garb,  and  I  am  worth  nothing  ;  leave  me  to 
myself,  and  every  now  and  then  I  shall  do  something.  Dress 
me  up,  and  you  will  soon  have  to  make  my  shroud — leave 
me  alone,  and  I  shall  live  the  appointed  time. 

'  Now  do  take  this  in,  as  a  sensible  nun.' 

However,  while  declining  an  official  position,  such  aid  as 
he  could  give  by  correspondence  with  individual  Bishops  he 
was  ready  and  anxious  to  afford. 

There  were  two  doctrines  of  the  utmost  delicacy  which 
the  Council  proposed  to  treat — the  Inspiration  of  Scripture 
and  Papal  Infallibility.  To  treat  them  with  a  full  knowledge 
of  the  facts  relevant  to  their  accurate  interpretation  and 
exposition,  so  that  the  world  should  see  that  the  definitions 


282  LIFE   OF   CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

were  entirely  consistent  with  the  historical  and  physical  science 
of  the  day,  needed  full  and  careful  deliberation. 

His  greatest  anxiety,  of  course,  related  to  the  proposed 
definition  of  Papal  Infallibility.  It  appeared  to  him  that  the 
untheological  school  were  trying  to  force  a  strong  definition 
secretly,  without  due  discussion,  without  facing  the  historical 
facts  with  which  it  nnust  be  reconciled — seeking  mainly 
to  express  their  devotional  beliefs,  and  in  doing  so  perhaps 
rendering  an  effective  defence  of  the  doctrine  most  difficult 
for  Catholics  in  the  future.  His  cry  was  in  effect  'Stop 
this  post-haste  movement  and  give  us  time.'  He  considered 
that  imperiousness  and  unfairness  marked  the  proceedings 
of  some  of  the  most  energetic  promoters  of  the  definition. 
To  write  at  length  on  so  wide  a  subject  would  need  on  his 
part  long  and  laborious  scientific  investigation.  For  this  no 
time  was  given.  He  could  only  cry  out,  and  try  and  arouse 
the  Bishops  to  a  sense  of  the  danger.  He  communicated 
with  many  of  them  privately.  This  was  within  the  clear  limit 
of  his  locus  standi,  for  they  asked  his  opinion.  He  seems  to 
have  hesitated  as  to  the  allowableness  of  writing  publicly. 
But  anyhow  there  was  no  time  to  write  with  any  effect. 

Before  taking  in  order  the  events  of  the  months  pre- 
ceding the  definition,  it  may  be  well  to  give  a  few  extracts 
from  letters  written  in  their  course  which  illustrate  the 
above  account  of  his  habitual  feeling.  When  portions  of  a 
letter  to  Bishop  Ullathorne  in  which  he  strongly  criticised 
some  of  the  promoters  of  the  definition  afterwards  found  their 
way  into  the  newspapers,  Father  Coleridge  urged  him  to  write 
a  pamphlet  designed  for  the  public.     Newman  thus  replied  : 

'  Of  course  a  pamphlet  would  have  been  far  better  than 
such  a  letter,  but  I  was  distinctly  dissuaded  from  publishing  ; 
and  then  I  asked  myself  this  question — "  Can  anything  I  say 
move  a  single  Bishop?  And  if  not,  what  is  the  good  of 
writing?"  And  this  is  the  great  charge  which  I  bring 
against  the  immediate  authors  of  this  movement,  that  they 
have  not  given  us  time.  Why  must  we  be  hurried  all  of  a 
sudden,  to  write  or  not  to  write  ?  Why  is  a  coup  de  utain  to 
settle  the  matter  before  we  know  where  we  are  ?  What 
could  such  as  I  do,  but  cry  out,  bawl,  make  violent  gestures, 
as  you  would  do,  if  you  saw  a  railway  engine  running  over 
some  unhappy  workman  on  the  line  }     What  time  was  there 


THE   VATICAN   COUNCIL   (1869-1870)  283 

for  being  scientific  ?  What  could  you  do  but  collar  a  Bishop, 
if  you  could  get  up  to  one?  The  beginning  and  end  of  my 
thoughts  about  the  Council  is  :  "  You  are  going  too  fast, 
you  are  going  too  fast."  ' 

The  extreme  party  were,  Newman  held,  playing  into  the 
hands  of  the  Church's  enemies,  who  desired  a  definition  which 
should  be  a  rediictio  ad  absiirduvi  of  Papal  claims.  The 
gradual  spread  of  Catholic  doctrines  in  England,  of  late  years 
so  promising,  would,  he  feared,  inevitably  be  checked  if  it 
should  be  passed.  He  wrote  to  Mr.  Brownlow,  contrasting 
the  circumstances  of  this  impending  definition  with  those  of 
the  definition  of  1854: 

'  As  to  the  Immaculate  Conception,  by  contrast  there  was 
nothing  sudden,  or  secret,  in  the  proposal  of  definition  in 
that  case.  It  had  been  talked  about  years  out  of  mind — and 
was  approached,  every  one  knowing  it,  by  step  after  step. 
This  has  taken  us  all  by  surprise. 

'  The  Protestant  and  Infidel  Press,  so  far  from  taking  part 
with  Mgr.  Dupanloup,  have  backed  up  all  along  the  extreme 
party — and  now  all  through  the  country  are  taking  an 
argumentative  position  against  me. 

'  The  e.xisting  Ritualists  may  or  may  not  be  put  back — 
but  the  leavening  of  the  country  will  be  checked.' 

'  It  is  very  pleasant  to  me,'  he  wrote  to  Canon  Walker, 
'to  find  you  have  hopes  of  the  Council  abstaining  in  a  matter 
on  which,  I  fear,  the  Pope  has  set  his  heart.  What  I  dread 
is  haste — if  full  time  is  given  for  the  Synodal  Fathers  to 
learn  and  reflect  on  the  state  of  the  case,  I  have  little  doubt 
they  will  keep  clear  of  the  dangerous  points.' 

To  Mrs.  F.  Ward  he  wrote  thus : 

'  This  is  certainly  a  most  anxious  time  of  suspense.  .  . 
Councils  have  ever  been  times  of  great  trial — and  this  seems 
likely  to  be  no  exception.  It  was  always  held  that  the 
conduct  of  individuals  who  composed  them  was  no  measure 
of  the  authority  of  their  result.  We  are  sure,  as  in  the  case 
of  the  administration  of  the  Sacraments,  that  the  holiness  of 
actors  in  them  is  not  a  necessary  condition  of  God's  working 
by  means  of  them.  Nothing  can  be  worse  than  the  conduct 
of  many  in  and  out  of  the  Council  who  are  taking  the  side 
which  is  likely  to  prevail.' 

Two  more  extracts  bring  before  us  another  side  of 
his   view.     He    regarded    Archbishop    Manning's    unceasing 


284  LIFE    OF   CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

advocacy  of  the  definition  as  a  kind  of  fixed  idea,  character- 
istic of  his  occasionally  mystical  and  apocalyptic  way  of 
writing  and  thinking.  Such  a  manner  of  looking  at  things 
did  not  inspire  Newman  with  confidence. 

'  I  don't  think  Dr.  Manning  has  put  on  any  "spectacles,"' 
he  wrote  to  Canon  Jenkins.  '  He  says  what  he  thinks,  and 
knows  what  he  is  about.  I  cannot  help  thinking  he  holds 
that  the  world  is  soon  coming  to  an  end — and  that  he  is  in 
consequence  careless  about  the  souls  of  future  generations 
which  will  never  be  brought  into  being.  I  can  fancy  a 
person  thinking  it  a  grand  termination  (I  don't  mean  that 
he  so  thinks)  to  destroy  every  ecclesiastical  power  but  the 
Pope  and  let  Protestants  shift  for  themselves.' 

On  the  other  hand,  while  the  enforcement  of  strict  views 
was  in  such  a  one  as  Manning  a  congenial  indulgence, 
Newman  foresaw  results  of  the  general  policy  which  was 
being  pursued  quite  opposite  to  the  intention  of  those  who 
pursued  it.  Their  object  was  to  bring  free-lances  into  line. 
Newman  held  that  the  general  policy  of  narrowing  the  terras 
of  communion  would  have  in  many  cases — and  indeed  had 
actually  had — just  the  opposite  effect.  Acute  minds  which 
if  allowed  a  reasonable  freedom  might  be  kept  within  due 
limits,  would  run  to  really  unallowable  excesses  in  their 
angry  reaction  against  what  they  held  to  be  tyranny.  Mr. 
Ffoulkes  was  writing  indignantly  against  the  Council.  Acton 
and  Wetherell  were  using  language  in  the  North  British  Review 
of  which  Newman  could  not  approve.  People  were  saying  to 
Newman — '  Here  are  your  friends  of  the  Home  and  Foreign 
— see  what  they  are  writing  !  Were  we  not  indeed  justified  in 
checking  them  and  in  censuring  the  Review  ?  '  Newman  held 
just  the  opposite — that  excesses  were  not  necessarily  the 
index  of  an  attitude  which  existed  from  the  first,  but  embodied 
a  reaction  and  protest,  indefensible  but  natural,  against 
tyrannous  repression.  And,  while  disapproving  of  the  actors 
in  this  protest,  their  excesses  had  or  might  prove  to  have  (he 
seems  to  have  thought)  good  consequences  in  bringing  home 
to  those  in  authority  the  danger  of  drawing  the  reins  too 
tight. 

'  There  are  those,'  he  wrote  to  Mrs.  Froude,  '  who  have 
been  taking  matters  with  a  very  high  hand  and  with  much  of 


THE   VATICAN   COUNCIL     (1869-1870)  285 

silent  intrigue  for  a  considerable  time,  and  such  ways  of  going 
on  bring  with  them  their  retribution.  This  does  not  defend 
the  actors  in  that  retribution.  Ffoulkes  is  behaving  very  ill 
— but  he  is  the  "  Nemesis,"  as  they  call  it,  of  a  policy,  which 
I  cannot  admire.  Nor  do  I  like  the  new  NortJi  British — 
but  it  too  is  the  retributive  consequence  of  tyranny.  All  will 
work  for  good  ;  and,  if  we  keep  quiet.  Providence  will  fight 
for  us,  and  set  things  right.'  ^ 

Early  in  the  year  1869  Newman  received  some  con- 
firmation of  his  fears  that  an  exaggerated  and  untheological 
view  of  the  nature  of  Papal  Infallibility  was  current  in 
highest  quarters.  Sir  John  Simeon  forwarded  to  Newman 
some  notes  received  from  Mr.  Odo  Russell,  at  that  time 
British  Minister  in  Rome,  of  a  conversation  with  Cardinal 
Antonelli  on  April  23,  in  which  the  Cardinal  was  repre- 
sented as  taking  the  exaggerated  view  in  question.  Would 
the  Council  (Newman  asked  himself),  if  it  passed  the 
definition,     appear     to     the     world     to     endorse     such     an 

'  It  is  to  be  observed  that  in  writing  to  Anglican  friends  he  emphasised  the  good 
which  the  Council  v.'as  Hkely  to  effect.     He  wrote  thus  to  J.  R.  Bloxam  : 

'  The  Oratory  :   Feb.  22,   1870. 

'  My  dear  Bloxam, — My  best  thanks  for  your  very  affectionate  letter.  I  shall 
rejoice  to  find  you  in  this  neighbourhood,  and  I  hope  it  will  be  when  the  leaves 
are  out  that  I  may  show  you  our  Retreat  at  Rednal,  as  you  have  shown  me  yours 
at  Beeding.  There  is  but  one  drawback.  I  wish  you  could  obliterate  it,  that  at 
length,  at  length  Birnam  Wood  would  come  to  Dunsinanc. 

'  As  to  this  Council,  about /a<rA',  I  know  little  more  than  you  do,  but  as  to  my 
expectations,  I  think  untold  good  will  come  of  it — first,  as  is  obvious,  in  bringing 
into  personal  acciuaintance  men  from  the  most  distant  parts.  The  moral  power 
of  the  Church  (of  Rome)  will  be  almost  squared  by  this  fact  alone — next  each  part 
will  know  the  state  of  things  in  other  parts  of  Christendom  ;  and  the  minds  of 
all  the  Prelates  will  be  enlarged  as  well  as  their  hearts.  They  will  learn  sympathy 
and  reliance  on  each  other.  Further,  the  authorities  at  Rome  will  learn  a  great 
deal  which  they  did  not  know  of,  and  since  the  Italian  apprehension  is  most 
imaginative  and  vivid,  this  will  be  a  wonderful  gain.  It  must  have  a  great  influence 
on  the  election  of  the  next  Pope,  when  that  takes  place.  Then  further  the 
religious  influence  of  so  great  an  occasion,  of  so  rare  and  wonderful  a  situation, 
of  such  a  realization  of  things  unseen,  must,  through  God's  mercy,  leave  a 
permanent  deep  impression  on  the  minds  of  all  assembled.  Nor  can  I  believe  that 
so  awful  a  visitation,  in  the  supernatural  order,  as  a  renewal  of  the  day  of  Pente- 
cost, when  it  is  granted  to  them,  will  not  make  them  all  new  men  for  the  rest  of 
their  lives. 

'  They  have  come  to  Rome  with  antagonistic  feelings,  they  will  depart  in 
the  peace  of  God.  I  don't  think  much  will  come  of  the  movement  for  Papal 
Infallibility,  though  something  very  mild  may  be  passed. 

Ever  yours  affectionately, 

(Signed)  John  II.   NiiWMAN. 

'  P.S.  You  must  not  suppose  from  anything  I  have  said  that  I  do  not 
sympathize  with  the  Bishop  of  Orleans  ;  for  I  do.' 


286  LIFE    OF   CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

extravagant    view  ?      Here    was    a    matter    for   most    grave 
anxiety. 

Bishop  Dupanloup  and  very  many  French  and  German 
prelates  shared  Newman's  anxiety.  Archbishop  Manning, 
on  the  other  hand,  issued  pastoral  after  pastoral  in  favour  of 
the  definition,  and  W.  G.  Ward  in  the  course  of  the  year 
published  his  pamphlet '  De  Infallibilitatis  Extensione,'  which, 
being  in  Latin,  was  widely  read  by  foreign  theologians 
as  well  as  English.  Dupanloup,  in  a  letter  to  his  clergy 
issued  in  November,  attacked  both  Manning  and  Ward. 
Echoing  the  complaint  of  the  Jesuit  Pere  Daniel  in 
France,  and  of  Father  Ryder  in  England,  he  deprecated 
the  fact  that  'intemperate  journalists'  insisted  on  'opening 
debates  on  one  of  the  most  delicate  subjects  and  answering 
beforehand  in  what  sense  the  Council  would  decide  and 
should  decide.'  The  public  mind  thus  became  filled  with 
an  extravagant  idea  of  what  Papal  Infallibility  meant ; 
and  the  definition  was  inopportune  because  it  would  be 
misunderstood. 

In  respect  of  Mr.  Ward's  special  share  in  the  controversy, 
the  Bishop  strongly  censured  his  contention  that  the  Pontiff 
may  speak  infallibly  in  letters  addressed,  not  to  the  whole 
Church,  but  to  an  individual  Bishop. 

Again,  Ward  had  ascribed  infallibility  to  a  number  of 
documents  on  the  ground  that  they  contained  condemnations 
reproduced  by  the  Syllabus,  and  he  maintained  that  all 
Catholics  were  bound  to  believe  this.  Afterwards,  in  deference 
to  the  opinion  of  Roman  theologians,  as  we  have  already  seen, 
he  retracted  this  assertion.  Dupanloup  at  once  seized  on  the 
retractation.  If  even  a  theological  expert  like  Ward  could 
make  such  a  mistake,  how  much  more  could  others  !  What 
an  argument  for  leaving  so  subtle  a  question  to  time,  and  to 
the  safer  process  of  discussion  among  theologians,  whose 
ultimate  decision  would  have  the  advantage  of  the  fullest 
consideration  of  pros  and  cons !  What  a  proof  that  a  true 
view  of  Papal  Infallibility  was  inseparable  from  the  constitu- 
tional methods  habitually  employed  !  The  Pope  was  indeed 
infallible ;  but  the  exact  knowledge  of  what  he  taught 
infallibly,  and  when  he  taught  infallibly,  came  to  the  faithful, 
in  the  cases  which  his  own  words  might  well  leave  doubtful, 


THE   VATICAN   COUNCIL   (1869-1870)  287 

not  through  the  rapid  private  judgment  of  an  individual, 
however  able,  or  of  a  single  public  writer  for  his  readers,  but 
through  the  gradual  operation  of  the  learning  and  knowledge 
of  the  Church  as  a  whole. 

Here,  then,  Dupanloup  '  noted,  what  Cardinal  Newman 
has  so  constantly  pointed  out,  the  functions  of  the  Church, 
as  represented  by  the  Bishops  and  the  theological  school,  in 
determining  the  force  and  interpreting  the  meaning  of  Papal 
declarations,  as  well  as  in  assisting  the  Pope  in  the  delibera- 
tions preparatory  to  definitions — functions  so  strangely  ignored 
or  minimised  by  the  extreme  party.  Many  of  the  Infallibilists 
appeared  to  be  in  the  same  position  as  some  supporters  of  the 
majority  at  the  Council  of  Ephesus.  These  men,  in  their 
zeal  against  the  Nestorians,  who  denied  that  Jesus  Christ  was 
a  Divine  Person,  fell  into  the  opposite  error  of  denying  that 
He  had  a  human  soul  and  human  nature.  They  became  the 
founders  of  the  Monophysite  heresy. 

Newman's  fears  persisted  up  to  the  time  of  the  definition 
itself  The  accredited  organs  of  Rome,  the  Civilta  Cattolica 
at  their  head,  used  language  which  foreshadowed  some  such 
definition  as  could  seem  called  for  only  to  satisfy  the  ex- 
travagant devotional  feeling  towards  the  Papacy,  of  which 
some  exhibitions  have  been  cited  above  from  the  columns  of 
the  Univers.  Newman  was  in  frequent  correspondence  with 
Bishop  Ullathorne,  and  wrote  him  a  letter  in  January  1870, 
in  which  he  expressed  fully  his  feelings  of  dismay  and 
indignation.      The  letter  ran  as  follows  : 

'■Private.  January  28th,  1870. 

'  My  dear  Lord, —  I  thank  your  Lordship  very  heartily  for 
your  most  interesting  and  seasonable  letter.  Such  letters 
(if  they  could  be  circulated)  would  do  much  to  re-assure  the 
many  minds  which  are  at  present  disturbed  when  they  look 
towards  Rome.  Rome  ought  to  be  a  name  to  lighten  the 
heart  at  all  times,  and  a  Council's  proper  office  is,  when  some 
great  heresy  or  other  evil  impends,  to  inspire  the  faithful  with 
hope  and  confidence.  But  now  we  have  the  greatest  meeting 
which  has  ever  been,  and  that  in  Rome,  infusing  into  us  by 
the  accredited  organs  of  Rome  (such  as  the  Civiltd,  the 
Armonia,  the   Univers,  and  the   Tablet)  little  else  than  fear 

'  The  text  of  Dupanloup's  remarks  is  given  in  W.  G.  Ward  and  the  Catholic 
Revival,  pp.  256  !:eq. 


288  LIFE    OF   CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

and  dismay.  Where  we  are  all  at  rest  and  have  no  doubts, 
and,  at  least  practically,  not  to  say  doctrinally,  hold  the  Holy 
Father  to  be  infallible,  suddenly  there  is  thunder  in  the  clear 
sky,  and  we  are  told  to  prepare  for  something,  we  know  not 
what,  to  try  our  faith,  we  know  not  how.  No  impending 
danger  is  to  be  averted,  but  a  great  difficulty  is  to  be  created. 
Is  this  the  proper  work  for  an  Ecumenical  Council?  As  to 
myself  personally,  please  God,  I  do  not  expect  any  trial  at 
all,  but  I  cannot  help  suffering  with  the  various  souls  that  are 
suffering.  I  look  with  anxiety  at  the  prospect  of  having  to 
defend  decisions  which  may  not  be  difficult  to  my  private 
judgment,  but  may  be  most  difficult  to  defend  logically  in  the 
face  of  historical  facts.  What  have  we  done  to  be  treated  as 
the  Faithful  never  were  treated  before  ?  When  has  definition 
of  doctrine  de  fide  been  a  luxury  of  devotion  and  not  a  stern 
painful  necessity  ?  Why  should  an  aggressive  and  insolent 
faction  be  allowed  to  make  the  hearts  of  the  just  to  mourn 
whom  the  Lord  hath  not  made  sorrowful  ?  Why  can't  we  be 
let  alone  when  we  have  pursued  peace  and  thought  no  evil  ? 
I  assure  you,  my  dear  Lord,  some  of  the  truest  minds  are 
driven  one  way  and  another,  and  do  not  know  where  to  rest 
their  feet ;  one  day  determining  to  give  up  all  theology  as  a 
bad  job  and  recklessly  to  believe  henceforth  almost  that  the 
Pope  is  impeccable  ;  at  another  tempted  to  believe  all  the 
worst  that  a  book  like  Janus  says  ;  at  another  doubting  about 
the  capacity  possessed  by  Bishops  drawn  from  all  corners  of 
the  earth  to  judge  what  is  fitting  for  European  society,  and 
then  again  angry  with  the  Holy  See  for  listening  to  the 
flattery  of  a  clique  of  Jesuits,  Redemptori.sts  and  Converts. 
Then  again  think  of  the  score  of  Pontifical  scandals  in  the 
history  of  eighteen  centuries  which  have  partly  been  poured 
out,  and  partly  are  still  to  come  out.  What  Murphy  inflicted 
upon  us  in  one  way,  M.  Veuillot  is  indirectly  bringing  on  us 
in  another.  And  then  again  the  blight  which  is  falling  upon 
the  multitude  of  Anglican  ritualists,  who  themselves  perhaps, 
or  at  least  their  leaders,  may  never  become  Catholics,  but 
who  are  leavening  the  various  English  parties  and  denomi- 
nations (far  beyond  their  own  range)  with  principles  and 
sentiments  tending  towards  their  ultimate  adoption  into  the 
Catholic  Church. 

'  With  these  thoughts  before  me,  I  am  continually  asking 
myself  whether  I  ought  not  to  make  my  feelings  public  ;  but 
all  I  do  is  to  pray  those  great  early  Doctors  of  the  Church, 
whose  intercession  would  decide  the  matter, — Augustine  and 
the  rest, — to  avert  so  great  a  calamity.     If  it  is  God's  Will 


THE  VATICAN   COUNCIL  (1869-1870)  289 

that  the  Pope's  InfalHbih'ty  should  be  defined,  then  it  is  His 
Blessed  Will  to  throw  back  the  times  and  the  moments  of 
that  triumph  He  has  destined  for  His  Kingdom  ;  and  I  shall 
feel  I  have  but  to  bow  my  head  to  His  Adorable  Inscrutable 
Providence.  You  have  not  touched  on  the  subject  yourself, 
but  I  think  you  will  allow  me  to  express  to  you  feelings 
which  for  the  most  part  I  keep  to  myself  .  .  . 

'John  H.  Newman.' 

In  the  course  of  March,  extracts  from  this  letter  found 
their  way  into  the  Standard  newspaper — how  they  became 
public  is  not  known.  The  passage  in  which  the  words 
'  aggressive  and  insolent  faction  '  occur  was  printed.  Newman 
wrote  to  the  Standard  denying  that  he  had  used  the 
words,  insisting  that  the  letter  was  a  private  one,  yet  not 
disclaiming  its  sentiments. 

He  wrote  at  the  same  time  to  Dr.  Moriarty,  Bishop  of 
Kerry,  an  active  opponent  of  the  definition,  in  much  the 
same  sense  as  he  had  written  to  Dr.  Ullathorne  : 

'  The  Oratory  :  March  20th,  1870. 

*  My  dear  Lord, — I  am  continually  thinking  of  you  and 
your  cause.  I  look  upon  you  as  the  special  band  of  con- 
fessors, who  are  doing  God's  work  at  this  time  in  a  grave 
crisis ;  who,  I  trust,  will  succeed  in  your  effort,  but  who 
cannot  really  fail — both  because  you  are  at  the  very  least 
diminishing  the  nature  and  weight  of  the  blow  which  is 
intended  by  those  whom  you  oppose,  and  also  because  your 
resistance  must  bear  fruit  afterwards,  even  though  it  fails  at 
the  moment.  If  it  be  God's  will  that  some  definition  in 
favour  of  the  Pope's  infallibility  is  passed,  I  then  should  at 
once  submit — but  up  to  that  very  moment  I  shall  pray  most 
heartily  and  earnestly  against  it.  Any  how,  I  cannot  bear 
to  think  of  the  tyrannousness  and  cruelty  of  its  advocates — 
for  tyrannousness  and  cruelty  it  will  be,  though  it  is 
successful.  .  .  . 

'  The  Standard  has  been  saying  that  I  have  written  to 
Bp.  of  Birmingham  at  Rome,  speaking  of  the  advocates  of 
Papal  Infallibility  as  an  "insolent  aggressive  faction" — this 
I  certainly  have  not  done  — though  I  do  in  my  heart  think 
some  advocates,  e.g.  the  Univers,  insolent  and  aggressive. 
Certainly  I  do.  Think  of  the  way  in  which  the  French 
Bishops  have  been  treated.  I  wrote  to  Dr.  Ullathorne  last 
Monday,  feeling,  that,  though  I  had  not  used  those  words,  yet 
the  person  who  wrote  the  Standard  word  about  me  certainly 
VOL.  II.  U 


290  LIFE    OF   CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

had  seen  my  letter  to  him.  Here  no  one  knew  anything  of 
what  I  said  to  the  Bishop  but  Fr.  St.  John — and  both  he  and 
I  have  kept  a  dead  silence  about  it  all  along. 

'  I  don't  give  up  hope,  till  the  very  end,  the  bitter  end  ; 
and  am  always  praying  about  it  to  the  great  doctors  of  the 
Church.     Anyhow,  we  shall  owe  you  and  others  a  great  debt. 
'  My  dear  Lord 

Ever  yours  affecly  in  Xt, 

John  H.  Newman.' 

Sir  John  Simeon  had  seen  a  copy  of  the  letter  to 
Dr.  Ullathorne  in  which  the  words  '  aggressive  and  insolent 
faction '  did  occur,  and  wrote  to  Newman  at  once  to  say  so. 

On  receiving  his  letter,  Newman  again  looked  at  the 
rough  copy  of  his  letter  to  Dr.  Ullathorne,  and  found  that  the 
words  in  question,  which  he  had  overlooked,  were  really  there. 
He  at  once  wrote  to  Simeon  : 

'The  Oratory  :  March  22nd,  1870. 

'  My  dear  Sir  John, — I  kept  a  copy  of  my  letter  to  the 
Bishop. 

'  Before  writing  to  the  Stmidard  I  referred  to  it,  and 
could  not  find  the  words  in  question  then. 

'  Since  your  letter  has  come,  I  have  referred  again  to  it, 
and  I  have  found  them. 

'  I  can  onl)/  account  for  my  not  having  seen  them  the  first 
time,  by  the  letter  being  written  very  badly  and  interlined. 

'  Of  course  I  must  write  to  the  Standard,  but  I  must  take 
care  how  I  pick  my  way  or  I  shall  tumble  into  the  mud. 

'  Ever  yours  affectionately, 

John  H.  Newman.' 

The  following  letter  from  Dr.  Newman  appeared  in  the 
Standard  of  the  following  day  : 

'  Sir, — In  answer  to  the  letter  of  "  The  Writer  of  *  the  Pro- 
gress of  the  Council,' "  I  am  obliged  to  say  that  he  is  right, 
and  I  am  wrong  as  to  my  using  the  words  "  insolent  and 
aggressive  faction "  in  a  letter  which  I  wrote  to  Bishop 
Ullathorne.  I  write  to  make  my  apologies  to  him  for 
contradicting  him. 

*  I  kept  the  rough  copy  of  this  private  letter  of  mine  to 
the  Bishop,  and  on  reading  the  writer's  original  statement  I 
referred  to  it  and  did  not  find  there  the  words  in  question. 

'  This  morning  a  friend  has  written  to  tell  me  that 
there  are  copies  of  the  letter  in  London,  and  that  the  words 


THE   VATICAN   COUNCIL   {1869-1870)  291 

certainly  are  in   it.     On  this   I   have  looked  at  my  copy  a 
second  time,  and  I  must  confess  that  I  have  found  them. 

*  I  can  only  account  for  my  not  seeing  them  the  first  time 
by  my  very  strong  impression  that  I  had  not  used  them  in 
my  letter,  confidential  as  it  was,  and  from  the  circumstance 
that  the  rough  copy  is  badly  written  and  interlined. 

'  I  learn  this  morning  from  Rome  that  Dr.  Ullathorne 
was  no  party  to  its  circulation. 

'  I  will  only  add  that  when  I  spoke  of  a  faction  I  neither 
meant  that  great  body  of  Bishops  who  are  said  to  be  in 
favour  of  the  definition  of  the  doctrine  nor  any  ecclesiastical 
order  or  society  external  to  the  Council.  As  to  the  Jesuits, 
I  wish  distinctly  to  state  that  I  have  all  along  separated 
them  in  my  mind,  as  a  body,  from  the  movement  which  I  so 
much  deplore.  What  I  meant  by  a  faction,  as  the  letter 
itself  shows,  was  a  collection  of  persons  drawn  together  from 
various  ranks  and  conditions  in  the  Church. 

'  I  am,  Sir, 

Your  obedient  servant, 

John  H.  Newman. 

'  March  22nd.' 

The  following  letter  to  Sir  John  Simeon  shows  that 
Newman  was  on  the  whole  glad  that  his  sentiments  had 
been  made  public  without  any  responsibility  on  his  own  part 
for  the  fact : 

'  The  Oratory  :  March  27th,  1870. 

'  My  dear  Sir  John, — As  my  confidential  letter  to  the 
Bishop  shows,  I  have  been  anxious  for  some  time  that  an 
opportunity  of  speaking  out,  which  I  could  not  make  myself, 
should  be  made  for  me. 

'  I  could  not  make  it  myself,  for,  as  I  said  to  you  before, 
I  am  bound  to  act  in  my  own  place  as  a  priest  under 
authority,  and  there  was  no  call  for  my  going  out  of  it. 

*  One  thing  I  could  do  without  impropriety — liberare 
animam  meam — to  my  Bishop,  and  that  I  did.  I  did  so 
with  great  deliberation  in  one  of  the  most  private  and 
confidential  letters  I  ever  wrote  in  my  life. 

'  I  am  glad  I  have  done  it,  and  moreover,  I  am  not  sorry 
that,  without  any  responsibility  of  my  own,  which  I  could 
not  lawfully  bring  on  me,  the  general  drift  of  what  I  wrote 
has  been  published. 

'  Everything  hitherto  has  happened  well.  It  was  very 
lucky  that  I  was  so  firmly  persuaded  I  did  not  use  in  the 
letter  the  words  imputed  to  me.  My  persuasion  being  such, 
I  felt  it  to  be  a  simple  duty  to  disown  them  ;  and   I  could 

u  2 


292  LIFE   OF  CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

not  in  fairness  disown  them,  without  avowing  at  the  same 
time,  as  I  did  in  my  letter  to  the  Standard,  that,  though 
I  did  not  use  the  words,  I  thought  them  in  my  heart.  If 
I  had  recognised  my  own  words  from  the  first,  I  should  have 
had  no  opportunity  of  explaining  their  meaning,  or  against 
whom  they  were  directed.  My  two  letters  to  the  Standard 
have  given  me  two  such  opportunities. 

'  Now,  however,  this  is  done  ;  and  I  feel  quite  easy,  and 
need  do  nothing  more. 

'  There  were  two  reasons  which  might  be  urged  upon  me 
for  making  my  views  known,  viz. — in  order  that  they  might 
act  as  a  means  of  influencing  some  of  the  Bishops  in  the 
Council,  and  as  a  protest  against  the  action  of  a  certain  party. 
What  I  have  already  done,  is  all  that  I  can,  all  that  I  need 
do.  Would  anything  more  on  my  part  move  a  single 
Bishop  ?  Would  anything  more  make  my  mind  on  the 
matter  more  intelligible  to  the  world  ?     I  think  not. 

'  I  will  add  one  thing.  I  do  not  at  all  anticipate  any 
ultimate  dissension.  Like  a  jury,  they  will  sit  till  they  agree. 
I  have  full  confidence  in  the  French  and  German  Bishops. 

*  Ever  yours  affectionately, 

John  H.  Newman. 

'  P.S. — Certainly  I  rejoice  to  hear  from  you  that  an 
Address  protesting  against  the  definition  of  Infallibility 
would,  if  started,  be  largely  signed  :  but  what  have  I  to  do 
with  such  measures,  beyond  giving  my  opinion,  which  I  have 
done?' 

Newman  did,  however,  take  one  further  step,  and  pub- 
lished the  whole  of  the  letter  of  which  the  Standard  had 
printed  extracts.  He  refers  to  its  publication  in  a  letter  to 
Mr.  de  Lisle  : 

'  My  dear  Mr.  de  Lisle, — .  .  .  I  am  in  somewhat  of  a 
mess  as  you  may  see  from  the  papers.  I  sent  to  our  Bishop, 
Dr.  Ullathorne,  at  Rome,  one  of  the  most  confidential  letters 
that  I  ever  wrote  in  my  life — and,  without  his  fault,  it  got 
out  and  was  shown  about  Rome.  Then,  I  still  unconscious 
of  the  mishap,  it  travelled  to  London,  and,  after  circulating 
pretty  freely,  bits  of  it  got  into  the  papers.  Meanwhile,  it  got 
to  Germany,  and  there  again  other  bits  were  published,  and 
not  fairly  given,  though  without  bad  intention,  but  from  the 
natural  inaccuracy  which  attends  on  reports,  when  they  have 
passed  through  several  minds  in  succession.  And  then  at 
length  the  whole  of  it,  in  its  length  and  breadth,  has  got 
published  at  last. 


THE   VATICAN   COUNCIL  (1869-1870)  293 

'  I  trust  it  has  thus  wriggled  into  public  knowledge,  for 
some  good  purpose — though  I  cannot  tell  how  this  will  be. 
If  it  leads  to  some  counter  demonstration,  it  will  be  very  sad. 
I  wish  there  was  a  chance  of  a  strong  lay  petition  to  our 
Bishops  to  beg  them  to  use  their  influence  at  Rome  to  let 
matters  alone.  But  this,  I  fear,  you  will  pronounce  to  be 
impossible. 

'Anxious  as  I  am,  I  will  not  believe  that  the  Pope's 
Infallibility  can  be  defined  at  the  Council  till  I  see  it  actually 
done.  Seeing  is  believing.  We  are  in  God's  Hands — not  in 
the  hands  of  men,  however  high-exalted.  Man  proposes, 
God  disposes.  When  it  is  actually  done,  I  will  accept  it  as 
His  act ;  but,  till  then,  I  will  believe  it  impossible.  One  can 
but  act  according  to  one's  best  light.  Certainly,  we  at  least 
have  no  claim  to  call  ourselves  infallible  ;  still  it  is  our  duty 
to  act  as  if  we  were,  to  act  as  strongly  and  vigorously  in  the 
matter,  as  if  it  were  impossible  we  could  be  wrong,  to  be  full 
of  hope  and  of  peace,  and  to  leave  the  event  to  God.  This  is 
right,  isn't  it  .-* 

*  Most  sincerely  yours, 

John  H.  Newman.' 

The  end  of  May  saw  the  Canons  of  the  Council  on  the 
first  of  the  two  subjects  which  caused  Newman  anxiety — the 
inspiration  of  Scripture.  From  a  letter  to  Father  Coleridge  it 
would  seem  that  these  Canons  realised  Newman's  anticipa- 
tions. He  had  no  difficulty  in  accepting  them.  But  he  felt  that 
they  were  drawn  up  with  no  adequate  regard  to  the  urgent 
questions  which  were  being  raised  by  contemporary  Biblical 
criticism.  This  he  evidently  deeply  regretted.  The  consequence 
was  that  difficulties  which  the  theologians  had  not  anticipated 
in  framing  the  Canons  would  have  to  be  taken  into  account  in 
their  interp.  vacation.  Eventually  no  doubt  theological  explana- 
tion would  give  them  an  interpretation  in  some  respects 
different  from  what  appeared  to  him  their  prima  facie  sense. 
But  this  must  be  a  matter  of  time.  And  meanwhile  he  antici- 
pated great  difficulties.  The  Fathers  of  the  Council  had  not — 
so  he  was  credibly  informed — intended  to  make  untenable  the 
views  of  ''ertain  approved  theologians  which  had  not  ap- 
parently been  taken  into  account  in  the  wording  of  the  Canons. 
If  this  were  the  case  the  fact  would  have  to  be  made  clear  to 
hostile  critics.  It  is  worth  while  to  remark  that  the  chief  point 
which  Newman    in    his  first    letter   wishes  to  see    expressly 


294  LIFK    OF   CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

allowed  for — the  use  by  Moses  of  pre-existing  documents — 
is  in  our  own  day  fully  admitted  by  most  theologians.  But 
Newman  evidently  wished  that  at  this  critical  moment  such 
considerations  should  have  been  dealt  with  by  full  theological 
discussion.  A  freer  and  more  open  debate  would  have  fore- 
stalled objections  which,  as  things  were,  the  keener-sighted 
Catholic  thinkers  might  have  to  answer  by  qualifying  the 
apparent  meaning  of  the  words  of  the  Canons. 

The  very  important  letter  of  which  I  speak  ran  as 
follows  : 

'  The  Oratory  :  June  7,  1870. 

'  I  have  my  doubts  whether,  humanly  speaking,  those 
Canons  &c.  would  ever  have  been  pressed  in  their  actual 
wording,  if  things  had  not  been  kept  so  strangely  snug  from 
first  to  last.  The  Pope  and  the  Bishops  seem  to  have  left 
everything  to  the  Holy  Ghost. 

'Speaking  under  correction,  there  are  two  new  dogmas  in 
what  has  been  defined  about  Scripture — ist  that  Scripture 
is  inspired.  In  the  decree  of  Trent  the  Apostles  are  declared 
to  be  inspired,  and  they,  thus  inspired,  are  the  fountain  head 
both  of  tradition  and  of  Scripture.  Bouvier,  I  think,  says 
that  the  inspiration  in  Scripture  is  not  defined,  though  it  is 
certissimum.  2nd  that  by  the  Testamenta  is  meant,  not  the 
Covenants,  but  the  collection  of  books  constituting  the  Bible  : 
of  zvhich  in  consequence  as  well  as  of  the  Covenants,  God 
becomes  the  "  Auctor." 

'  St.  Irenaeus,  writing  against  the  Gnostics,  who  denied 
the  fewish  Dispensation  to  be  the  work  of  God,  says  that  God 
vv^as  the  Auctor  Testamenti  Veteris,  of  which  testaments  he 
numbers  in  one  place  (I  think)  five.  When  the  Priscillians 
made  a  row  in  Spain,  the  Spanish  Bishops  against  them  read 
the  same  formula.  Then  in  the  Middle  Ages,  against  the 
Manichean  Gnostics,  Albigenses  &c. — the  same  formula  was 
used.  Thence  it  came  to  Florence.  Mind,  I  am  writing 
from  memory,  but  thus  my  memory  runs. 

*  When  I  heard  the  Canons  had  been  passed — no,  it  was 
when  I  saw  from  the  Papers  that  they  were  threatened^ — I, 
at  once^  wrote  to  a  Bishop  at  Berne,  saying  what  I  have  said 
above — but  it  was  too  late.  One  says  God's  will  be  done. 
He  is  wiser  than  man — but  I  cannot  think  that  full  deliberation 
has  been  had  upon  the  subject — which  is  necessary,  not  for  the 
validity  of  the  decree  but  for  the  relief  of  the  responsibility 
of  those  who  so  passed  it.  On  such  important  questions  why 
should  not  all  sides  be  considered  and  reviewed  ? 


THE   VATICAN   COUNCIL     (1869-1870)  295 

'  My  friend  wrote  me  back  word  that  he  was  sure  that 
the  Fathers  of  the  Council  never  meant  to  exchide  the  views  of 
Lessius,  but  their  words  are  very  Hke  exclusion.  Can  I  now 
hold  that  Moses  by  inspiration  selected  and  put  together  the 
various  pre-existing  documents  which  constitute  the  book 
of  Genesis  ?  Are  the  genealogies  all  of  them  inspired  ?  for 
are  they  not  ''partes''  of  Scripture? 

'  It  seems  to  me  that  a  perfectly  new  platform  of  doctrine 
is  created,  as  regards  our  view  of  Scripture,  by  these  new 
Canons — so  far  as  this,  that,  if  their  primary  and  surface 
meaning  is  to  be  evaded,  it  must  be  by  a  set  of  explanations 
heretofore  not  necessary. 

'  Indeed  the  whole  Church  platform  seems  to  me  likely 
to  be  off  its  ancient  moorings,  it  is  like  a  ship  which  has 
swung  round  or  taken  up  a  new  position.  .  .  . 

'  Ever  yours  affectionately, 

John  H.  Newman.' 

The  question  of  Inspiration  having  been  dealt  with,  there 
remained  the  all-important  one  of  Papal  Infallibility.  And 
Newman  continued  to  pray  and  hope  that  the  definition  might 
be  averted.  The  late  Lord  Emly,  who  often  conversed  with 
him  on  the  subject,  told  the  present  writer  that  Newman's  main 
objection  throughout  was  not  to  a  definition  on  the  subject, 
but  to  such  a  definition  as  was  likely  to  be  passed  in  the  haste 
in  which  matters  were  proceeding  and  to  exaggerations  of  its 
import  which  extremists  were  likely  to  propagate.  It  was 
this  anxiety  which  led  him  to  pray  earnestly  that  for  the 
present  at  least  no  definition  should  be  passed.  Newman 
wrote  in  April  to  Dr.  Whitty,  who  was  in  Rome  : 

'  Confidential.  April  12th,  1870. 

'  My  dear  Fr.  Whitty, — Thank  you  for  your  letter,  which 
I  was  very  glad  to  have.  I  will  write  to  you  as  frankly  as 
you  have  written  to  me  ;  and  tho'  the  letter  is  "  confidential," 
still  you  are  the  judge,  should  you  wish  to  extend  that 
confidence  beyond  yourself 

'  One  can  but  go  by  one's  best  light.  Whoever  is  infallible, 
I  am  not ;  but  I  am  bound  to  argue  out  the  matter  and  to 
act  as  if  I  were,  till  the  Council  decides  ;  and  then,  if  God's 
Infallibility  is  against  me,  to  submit  at  once,  still  not 
repenting  of  having  taken  the  part  which  I  felt  to  be  right, 
any  more  than  a  lawyer  in  Court  may  repent  of  believing 
in  a  cause  and  advocating  a  point  of  law,  which  the  Bench 


296  LIFE    OF   CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

of  Judges  ultimately  give  against  him.  We  can  but  do  our 
best. 

'Well,  then,  my  thesis  is  this: — you  are  going  too  fast  at 
Rome  ; — on  this  I  shall  insist. 

'  It  is  enough  for  one  Pope  to  have  passed  one  doctrine 
(on  the  Immac.  Concept.)  into  the  list  of  dogmata.  We  do 
not  move  at  railroad  pace  in  theological  matters,  even  in  the 
19th  century.  We  must  be  patient,  and  that  for  two  reasons  : 
— first,  in  order  to  get  at  the  truth  ourselves,  and  next  in 
order  to  carry  others  with  us. 

'  I.  The  Church  moves  as  a  whole ;  it  is  not  a  mere 
philosophy,  it  is  a  communion  ;  it  not  only  discovers,  but  it 
teaches  ;  it  is  bound  to  consult  for  charity  as  well  as  for  faith. 
You  must  prepare  men's  minds  for  the  doctrine,  and  you 
must  not  flout  and  insult  the  existing  tradition  of  countries. 
The  tradition  of  Ireland,  the  tradition  of  England,  is  not  on 
the  side  of  Papal  Infallibility.  You  know  how  recent  Ultra- 
montane views  are  in  both  countries  ;  so  too  of  France  ;  so 
of  Germany.  The  time  may  come  when  it  will  be  seen  how 
those  traditions  are  compatible  with  additions,  that  is,  with 
true  developments,  which  those  traditions  indeed  in  them- 
selves do  not  explicitly  teach  ;  but  you  have  no  right  rudely 
to  wipe  out  the  history  of  centuries,  and  to  substitute  a 
bran  new  view  of  the  doctrine  imported  from  Rome  and  the 
South.  Think  how  slowly  and  cautiously  you  proceeded 
in  the  definition  of  the  Immac,  Concept.,  how  many  steps 
were  made,  how  many  centuries  passed,  before  the  dogma 
was  ripe  ; — we  are  not  ripe  yet  for  the  Pope's  Infallibility. 
Hardly  anyone  even  murmured  at  the  act  of  1854  ;  half  the 
Catholic  world  is  in  a  fright  at  the  proposed  act  of  1870, 

'  When  indeed  I  think  of  the  contrast  presented  to  us  by 
what  is  done  now  and  what  was  done  then,  and  what,  as  I 
have  said,  ought  always  to  be  done,  I  declare,  unless  I  were 
too  old  to  be  angry,  I  should  be  very  angry.  The  Bull 
convening  the  Council  was  issued  with  its  definite  objects 
stated,  dogma  being  only  slightly  mentioned  as  among  those 
objects,  but  not  a  word  about  the  Pope's  Infallibility. 
Through  the  interval,  up  to  the  meeting  of  the  Council,  not  a 
word  was  said  to  enlighten  the  Bishops  as  to  what  they  were 
to  meet  about.  The  Irish  Bishops,  as  I  heard  at  the  time, 
felt  surprised  at  this  ;  so  did  all,  I  doubt  not.  Many  or  most 
had  thought  they  were  to  meet  to  set  right  the  Canon  Law. 
Then  suddenly,  just  as  they  are  meeting,  it  is  let  out  that  the 
Pope's  Infallibility  is  the  great  subject  of  definition,  and  the 
Civiltd,  and  other  well-informed  prints,  say  that  it  is  to  be 


THE   VATICAN   COUNCIL   (1869-1870)  297 

carried  by  acclamation !  Then  Archbishop  Manning  tells 
(I  believe)  Mr.  Odo  Russell  that,  unless  the  opposition  can 
cut  the  throats  of  500  Bishops,  the  definition  certainly  will  be 
carried  ;  and,  moreover,  that  it  has  long  been  intended!  Long 
intended,  and  yet  kept  secret  !  Is  this  the  way  the  faithful 
ever  were  treated  before  ?  is  this  in  any  sort  of  sense  going 
by  tradition  ?  On  hearing  this,  my  memory  went  back  to 
an  old  saying,  imputed  to  Monsignor  Talbot,  that  what  made 
the  definition  of  the  Immac.  Concept,  so  desirable  and 
important  was  that  it  opened  the  way  to  the  definition  of 
the  Pope's  Infallibility.  Is  it  wonderful  that  we  should  all 
be  shocked  ?  For  myself,  after  meditating  on  such  crooked 
ways,  I  cannot  help  turning  to  Our  Lord's  terrible  warning : 
"  Vae  mundo  a  scandalis  !  Quisquis  scandalizaverit  unum 
ex  his  pusillis  credentibus  in  me,  bonum  est  ei  magis 
si  circumdaretur  mola  asinaria  collo  ejus,  et  in  mare 
mitteretur." 

'  2.  I  say  then  you  must  take  your  time  about  a  definition 
de  fide,  for  the  sake  of  charity  ; — and  now  I  say  so  again 
for  the  sake  of  truth  ;  for  the  very  same  caution,  which  is 
necessary  for  the  sake  of  others,  is  surely  the  divinely 
appointed  human  means  of  an  infallible  decision.  Consider 
how  carefully  the  Immaculate  Conception  was  worked  out. 
Those  two  words  have  been  analysed,  examined  in  their 
parts,  and  then  carefully  explained  ; — the  declarations  and 
the  intentions  of  Fathers,  Popes,  and  ecclesiastical  writers  on 
the  point  have  been  clearly  made  out.  It  was  this  process 
that  brought  Catholic  Schools  into  union  about  it,  while  it 
secured  the  accuracy  of  each.  Each  had  its  own  extreme 
points  eliminated,  and  they  became  one,  because  the  truth 
to  which  they  converged  was  one.  But  now  what  is  done  as 
regards  the  seriously  practical  doctrine  at  present  in  dis- 
cussion ?  What  we  require,  first  of  all,  and  it  is  a  work  of 
years,  is  a  careful  consideration  of  the  acts  of  Councils,  the 
deeds  of  Popes,  the  Bullarium.  We  need  to  try  the  doctrine 
by  facts,  to  see  what  it  may  mean,  what  it  cannot  mean, 
what  it  must  mean.  We  must  try  its  future  working 
by  the  past.  And  we  need  that  this  should  be  done  in 
the  face  of  day,  in  course,  in  quiet,  in  various  schools  and 
centres  of  thought,  in  controversy.  This  is  a  work  of  }'ears. 
This  is  the  true  way  in  which  those  who  differ  sift  out  the 
truth.  On  the  other  hand,  what  do  we  actually  sec  ?  Sud- 
denly one  or  two  works  made  to  order — (excuse  me,  I  must 
speak  out).  Fr.  Botalla  writes  a  book — and,  when  he  finds 
a  layman  like  Renouf  speak  intemperately,  then,  instead  of 


298  LIFE    OF   CARDINAL    NEWMAN 

setting  him  an  example  of  cool  and  careful  investigation,  he 
speaks  intemperately  too,  and  answers  him  sharply,  some  say 
angrily.  ^'Non  tali  auxilio,  nee  defensoribiis  istis  !  "  Is  this  the 
way  to  gain  a  blessing  on  a  most  momentous  undertaking  ? 

'  3.  One  word  more.  To  outsiders  like  me  it  would  seem 
as  if  a  grave  dogmatic  question  was  being  treated  merely  as 
a  move  in  ecclesiastical  politics.  Indeed,  what  you  say 
about  its  relation  to  the  Syllabus  justifies  me  in  so  thinking. 
So  grave  a  doctrine  is  but  an  accidental  means  to  an  object 
of  the  particular  year,  1 864 !  a  dogma  is,  so  to  say,  dated^ 
as  St.  Athanasius  says  of  the  Arian  creeds.  I  say  "  an 
accidental  means,"  for  you  surmise  that,  if  the  Syllabus  had 
not  been  negative  in  its  form,  the  definition  of  the  Pope's 
Infallibility  would  not  have  been  needed  at  present.  I  could 
say  much,  not  about  the  Syllabus,  but  on  the  unworthy  way 
in  which  it  has  been  treated  by  its  professed  champions. 
But  let  us  allow  that  it  is  right  to  sink  the  solemn  character 
of  a  dogma  in  a  question  of  ecclesiastical  expedience,  regnante 
Pio  110710  : — next,  if  so,  I  naturally  ask  whether  such  a 
degradation  answers  its  purpose.  Am  I  bound  to  take  my 
view  of  expedience  from  what  is  thought  expedient  at  Rome? 
May  I  not  judge  about  expedience  for  Catholics  in  England 
by  what  we  see  in  England  ?  Now  the  effect  upon  the 
English  people  of  the  very  attempt  at  definition  hitherto 
does  but  confirm  one's  worst  apprehensions  about  it,  for 
1st.  the  ministry  is  decidedly  pro-Catholic,  Gladstone 
would  help  the  Irish  Catholic  University  if  he  could,  but  he 
has  been  obliged  to  declare  in  the  House  that  what  is  going 
on  in  Rome  ties  his  hands.  And  2ndly  Mr.  Newdegate  has 
gained  his  Committee  to  inquire  into  conventual  establish- 
ments and  their  property.  These  are  the  first  fruits  in 
England  of  even  the  very  agitation  of  this  great  anticipated 
expedient  for  strengthening  the  Church.  That  agitation 
falls  upon  an  existing  anti-Catholic  agitation  spreading 
through  the  English  mind.  Murphy  is  still  lecturing  against 
priests  and  convents,  and  gaining  over  the  classes  who  are  now 
the  ultimate  depository  of  political  power,  the  constituency 
for  Parliamentary  elections.  And  we,  where  we  are  bound, 
if  we  can,  to  soothe  the  deep  prejudices  and  feverish  suspi- 
cions of  the  nation,  we  on  the  contrary  are  to  be  forced, 
by  measures  determined  on  at  Rome,  to  blow  upon  this 
troubled  sea  with  all  the  winds  of  ^^lolus,  when  Neptune 
ought  to  raise  his  "  placidum  caput  "  above  the  waves.  This 
is  what  we  need  at  least  in  England.  And  for  England,  of 
course,  I  speak. 


THE   VATICAN   COUNCIL   (1869-1870)  299 

'  Excuse  my  freedom.  I  do  not  forget  your  two  passages. 
Say  everything  kind  for  me  to  your  Bishop,  unless  he  has 
returned  home.  I  wrote  to  him  a  day  or  two  ago.  You  may 
open  the  letter  if  he  is  away. 

'  Ever  yours  affly. 

John  H.  Newman.' 

Newman  made  no  secret  of  his  views,  in  writing,  not 
only  to  intimate  friends,  but  to  occasional  correspondents. 
Mr.  O'Neill  Daunt  had  asked  his  advice  concerning  a  lady 
friend  whose  faith  was  greatly  tried  by  the  prospect  of  the 
definition,  and  he  thus  replied  : 

'  The  Oratory  :  June  27th,  1870. 

'  As  to  the  subject  of  your  letter,  I  certainly  think  this 
agitation  of  the  Pope's  Infallibility  most  unfortunate  and 
ill-advised,  and  I  shall  think  so  even  if  the  Council  decrees 
it,  unless  I  am  obliged  to  believe  that  the  Holy  Ghost 
protects  the  Fathers  from  all  inexpedient  acts,  (which  I  do 
not  see  is  anywhere  promised)  as  well  as  guides  them  into  all 
the  truth,  as  He  certainly  does.  There  are  truths  which  are 
inexpedient. 

'As  to  your  question,  however,  I  think  first  that  there  is 
such  a  thing  as  a  "  needless  alarm."  Do  you  recollect 
Cowper's  poem  with  that  title .-'  I  often  think  of  it  and 
quote  it,  and  especially  lately,  since  this  agitation  has 
commenced.  Your  friend  should  not  take  it  for  granted  that 
the  Infallibility  of  the  Pope  will  be  carried.  I  am  not  at  all 
sure  it  will.  Eor  myself,  I  refuse  to  believe  that  it  can  be 
carried,  till  it  actually  is.  I  think  the  great  Doctors  of  the 
Church  will  save  us  from  a  dogma  which  they  did  not  hold 
themselves. 

'  Next,  if  anything  is  passed,  it  will  be  in  so  mild  a  form, 
as  practically  to  mean  little  or  nothing.  There  is  a  report, 
which  you  probably  can  substantiate  better  than  I,  that 
Cardinal  Cullen  said,  when  he  was  in  Dublin,  at  Easter, 
that  "  he  thought  the  Pope  would  nevej^  be  able  to  use  the 
dogma,  in  the  shape  it  was  to  be  passed. 

'  Lastly,  is  your  friend  sure  she  understands  the  dogma, 
even  as  Ultramontanes  hold  it?  I  very  much  doubt  if  she 
does.  She  should  look  carefully  to  this.  The  Pope  did  not 
force  on  us  the  Immaculate  Conception.  The  whole  of 
Christendom  wished  it'  ^ 

'  In  the  Appendix,  at  pp.  552  seq.,  will  be  found  some  further  letters  illus- 
trating Newman's  state  of  mind  during  the  months  preceding  the  definition  of 
Papal  Infallibility,  and  one  letter  on  the  fall  of  Louis  Napoleon  in  August  1870. 


300  LIFE   OF   CARDINAL  NEWMAN 

Meanwhile  the  dehberations  of  the  Council  proceeded. 
One  party  pleaded  for  whole-hearted  loyalty  to  the  Pontiff. 
The  other  urged  such  caution  as  the  true  interests  of  the 
Church  and  respect  for  its  traditions  demanded.  The  contest 
was  intensified,  and  the  struggle  of  motives  complicated,  by 
the  simple  and  noble  character  of  Pius  IX.  and  the  charm 
of  his  presence.  In  the  graphic  journal  of  Mr.  Thomas 
Mozley,  intensely  prejudiced  as  he  was  against  the  in- 
fallibilists,  we  see  that  the  appearance  of  Pio  Nono  ever 
touches  his  imagination  and  his  heart.  The  very  tones  of 
his  voice  were  inspiring.  '  Whenever  the  Pope  himself, '  he 
writes,  after  one  of  the  Church  functions  at  which  he  was 
present,  'had  either  to  intone  or  to  give  the  first  notes  of  the 
grand  sacramental  hymns,  his  peculiarly  cheery  voice  rang 
through  the  whole  church  and  woke  a  response  from  every- 
body within  reach  of  it.  The  reverence  he  aroused  was  so 
universal  and  hearty  that  I  could  almost  have  fancied  that 
there  was  a  touch  of  mirth  in  it'  The  gracious  presence  of 
the  Pontiff,  his  simple  faith,  conquered  wherever  he  went. 
His  jokes  were  in  everyone's  mouth.  Those  who  regarded 
the  promoters  of  the  definition  as  fanatics  of  the  deepest 
dye  could  not  but  undergo  a  revulsion  of  feeling  when  they 
met  the  man  who  was  in  their  eyes  the  head  of  the  party. 
Even  the  zeal  of  his  most  loyal  followers  would  touch  his 
sense  of  humour  :  and  when,  after  the  definition  was  passed, 
many  of  the  Bishops  who  had  voted  for  it  stayed  on  week  after 
week,  living  at  the  Pope's  expense,  to  rejoice  over  their  vic- 
tory, the  Pontiff  was  both  amused  and  somewhat  tried  at  this 
drain  on  his  exchequer.  With  the  usual  pinch  of  snuff  and 
a  twinkle  in  his  eye,  he  is  said  to  have  remarked,  'Ouesti 
infallibilisti  mi  faranno  fallire.'  To  behold  the  Pope  pray 
was,  it  used  to  be  said,  to  watch  one  who  himself  saw  that 
world  which  others  know  only  by  faith.  Such  was  the  man 
who  in  person  made  the  appeal  to  his  Bishops  to  be  loyal  to 
God's  Vicar  and  to  despise  the  opinion  of  the  world.  And 
he  treated  half-heartedness  as  to  the  definition  as  simply  and 
solely  worldliness.  It  is  hard  to  conceive  a  greater  trial,  of 
its  kind,  than  such  men  as  Dr.  Moriarty  and  Mgr.  Dupanloup 
had  to  undergo  in  resisting  such  appeals,  and  appearing  to 
the  Pontiff  they  so  deeply  loved  and  reverenced  to  fail  in 
their  loyalty  to  him  in  his  time  of  trouble. 


THE   VATICAN   COUNCIL  (1869-1870)  301 

I  may  cite  one  out  of  many  pictures  Mr.  Mozley  has  left 
of  the  activity  and  zeal  of  the  great  Pontiff  at  this  time  : 

'  The  day  reminds  me  once  more  of  the  enormous  amount 
of  work  expected  from  a  Pope,  and  done  diligently,  faithfully, 
and  cheerfully  by  this  old  man  in  his  seventy-eighth  year. 
Yesterday  he  paid  a  long  visit  to  the  Exposition,  talking 
with  the  exhibitors,  and  having  his  jokes  with  all  about  him. 
He  has  to  give  interviews  to  all  these  seven  hundred  bishops, 
and,  as  the  enemy  says,  to  put  a  strong  pressure  on  all  who 
are  recommended  to  him  for  the  application  of  the  supreme 
torture.  A  great  deal  has  been  said  about  his  visits  to  the 
aged  and  invalid  bishops  lodged  and  nursed  in  the  canonical 
apartments  attached  to  St.  Peter's. 

•  •••••• 

'  Other  bishops,  who  have  been  disposed,  or  compelled 
by  circumstances,  to  adopt  a  neutral  or  a  moderate  line  in 
the  Council,  have  found  themselves  sorely  tried  in  a  personal 
interview.  They  find  it  vain  to  declare  their  devotion  or 
their  sincerity.  His  Holiness  tells  them  plainly  they  are  not 
on  his  side  ;  they  are  among  his  enemies  ;  they  are  damaging 
the  good  cause  ;  their  loyalty  is  not  sound.  It  is  enough 
that  they  have  signed  what  they  should  not,  or  not  signed 
what  they  ought.  On  the  Roman  system  there  is  nothing 
wonderful  in  this  personal  interference  of  the  Head  of  the 
Church.  What  I  most  marvel  at  is  that  it  is  all  done  by  this 
old  man,  and  that  it  is  done  with  a  success  which  provokes 
the  indignation  of  those  who  conceive  their  cause  hurt  by  it.' 

Newman,  though  at  a  distance  from  Rome,  realised  to 
the  full  the  charm  of  the  Pontiff  with  whose  policy  he  could 
not  concur.  Pius  IX.  had  ever  touched  his  heart  in  their 
intercourse.  He  was  wont  to  ascribe  to  his  character  and 
presence  much  of  the  abatement  among  his  countr}'men  of 
anti-Catholic  prejudice — and  this  in  spite  of  the  fact  that 
Pio  Nono's  recent  line  of  action  and  his  insistence  on  the 
Papal  prerogatives  were  calculated  greatly  to  increase  rather 
than  to  diminish  the  bigotry  of  our  countrymen.  The  man 
himself  had  that  in  him  which  was  quite  irresistible. 

'  No  one  could,  both  by  his  words  and  deeds,  offend 
[Englishmen]  more,'  Newman  wrote  of  him  after  his  death. 
'  He  claimed,  he  exercised,  larger  powers  than  any  other 
Pope  ever  did  ;  he  committed  himself  to  ecclesiastical  acts 
bolder   than  those   of  any  other  Pope ;    his    secular  policy 


302  LIFE   OF   CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

was  especially  distasteful  to  Englishmen  ;  he  had  some  near 
him  who  put  into  print  just  that  kind  of  gossip  concerning 
him  which  would  put  an  Englishman's  teeth  on  edge  ;  lastly, 
he  it  was  who,  in  the  very  beginning  of  his  reign,  was  the 
author  of  the  very  measure  which  raised  such  a  commotion 
among  us  ;  yet  his  personal  presence  was  of  a  kind  that  no 
one  could  withstand.  I  believe  one  special  cause  of  the 
abatement  of  the  animosity  felt  towards  us  by  our  country- 
men was  the  series  of  tableaux,  as  I  may  call  them,  brought 
before  them  in  the  newspapers,  of  his  receptions  of  visitors 
in  the  Vatican. 

'  His  misfortunes  indeed  had  something  to  do  with  his 
popularity.  The  whole  world  felt  that  he  was  shamefully 
used  as  regards  his  temporal  possessions  ;  no  foreign  power 
had  any  right  to  seize  upon  his  palaces,  churches,  and  other 
possessions,  and  the  injustice  showed  him  created  a  wide 
interest  in  him  ;  but  the  main  cause  of  his  popularity  was 
the  magic  of  his  presence,  which  was  such  as  to  dissipate 
and  utterly  destroy  the  fog  out  of  which  the  image  of  a  Pope 
looms  to  the  ordinary  Englishman.  His  uncompromising 
faith,  his  courage,  the  graceful  intermingling  in  him  of  the 
human  and  the  divine,  the  humour,  the  wit,  the  playfulness 
with  which  he  tempered  his  severity,  his  naturalness,  and 
then  his  true  eloquence,  and  the  resources  he  had  at  command 
for  meeting  with  appropriate  words  the  circumstances  of  the 
moment,  overcame  those  who  were  least  likely  to  be  over- 
come. A  friend  of  mine,  a  Protestant,  a  man  of  practised 
intellect  and  mature  mind,  told  me  to  my  surprise  that, 
at  one  of  the  Pope's  receptions  at  the  Vatican,  he  was  so 
touched  by  the  discourse  made  by  His  Holiness  to  his 
visitors,  that  he  burst  into  tears.  And  this  was  the  ex- 
perience of  hundreds  ;  how  could  they  think  ill  of  him  or 
of  his  children  when  his  very  look  and  voice  were  so  ethical, 
so  eloquent,  so  persuasive?'  ^ 

It  was  doubtless  largely  the  feeling  which  Pius  IX. 
inspired  which  made  the  inopportunist  Bishops  decline  to 
record  their  votes  against  the  decree  of  Infallibility  at  the 
final  public  session  held  in  the  Pope's  presence.  At  the 
General  Congregation  of  July  13,  at  which  the  definition  was 
informally  passed,  eighty-eight  Bishops  voted  non  placet,  and 
sixty-two  placet  juxta  inodiim  (that  is,  were  in  favour  of 
modifications  in  the  definition).  They  then  left  Rome  after 
addressing  to  the  Pontiff  the  following  letter  : 

'  Addresses  by  Cardinal  Newman  (Longmans),  p.  242. 


THE   VATICAN   COUNCIL  (1869-1870)  303 

*  Most  Blessed  Father, — In  the  General  Congregation 
held  on  the  13th  inst.  we  gave  our  votes  on  the  Schemata  of 
the  first  Dogmatic  Constitution  concerning  the  Church  of 
Christ. 

'  Your  Holiness  is  aware  that  88  Fathers,  urged  by  con- 
science and  love  of  Holy  Church,  gave  their  vote  in  the 
words  "  non placet"  ;  62  in  the  words  "  placet 7>/,r/«  niodum"  ; 
finally  about  70  were  absent  and  gave  no  vote. 

'  Others  returned  to  their  dioceses  on  account  of  illness  or 
more  serious  reasons. 

*  Thus  our  votes  are  known  to  your  Holiness  and  manifest 
to  the  whole  world,  and  it  is  notorious  how  many  bishops 
agree  with  us,  and  with  the  manner  in  which  we  have  dis- 
charged the  office  and  duty  laid  upon  us. 

'  Nothing  has  happened  since  to  change  our  opinion,  nay 
rather  there  have  been  many  and  very  serious  events  of  a 
nature  to  confirm  us  in  it. 

'  We  therefore  declare  that  we  renew  and  confirm  the 
votes  already  given. 

'  Confirming  therefore  our  votes  by  this  present  document, 
we  have  decided  to  ask  leave  of  absence  from  the  public 
session  on  the  18th  inst. 

'  For  the  filial  piety  and  reverence  which  very  recently 
brought  our  representatives  to  the  feet  of  your  Holiness  do 
not  allow  us  in  a  cause  so  closely  concerning  your  Holiness 
to  say  "  non  placet "  openly  and  to  the  face  of  the  Father. 

'Moreover,  the  votes  to  be  given  in  Solemn  Session  would 
only  repeat  those  already  delivered  in  General  Congregation. 
We  return,  therefore,  without  delay  to  our  flocks,  to  whom, 
after  so  long  an  absence,  the  apprehensions  of  war  and  their 
most  urgent  spiritual  wants  render  us  necessary  to  the  utmost 
of  our  power,  grieving  as  we  do,  that  in  the  present  gloomy 
state  of  public  affairs  we  shall  find  the  faithful  troubled  in 
conscience  and  no  longer  at  peace  with  one  another. 

'  Meanwhile,  with  our  whole  heart,  we  commend  the 
Church  of  God  and  your  Holiness,  to  whom  we  avow  our 
unaltered  faith  and  obedience,  to  the  grace  and  protection  of 
our  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  and  are  your 

'  Most  devoted  and  obedient' 

The  appointed  day  arrived — July  18 — and  the  definition 
was  solemnly  passed  in  presence  of  the  Pontiff.  Mr.  Mozley, 
who  was  a  witness  of  the  scene,  has  left  a  graphic  account  of 
it:' 

'  I  omit  Mr.  Mozley's  unsympathetic  reflections,  as  my  object  is  only  to  give 
his  picture  of  the  scene.     {Stt^loz\ey^s,' Letters  from  Rome.     Longmans.) 


304  LIFE   OF   CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

'  Let  me  begin  with  the  vigil  of  the  fete.  It  thundered 
and  lightened  all  night,  and  it  rained  in  the  morning. 
When  I  went  down  to  St.  Peter's  on  December  8  last,  the 
very  doors  of  Heaven  seemed  to  have  been  opened,  and  we 
were  nearly  washed  out  of  our  carriages.  Yesterday,  too, 
instead  of  a  bright  Roman  sky  and  brilliant,  burning  sun,  we 
had  what  may  be  called  the  storm  of  the  season.  Thus,  the 
opening  and  the  closing  of  the  Council — the  closing,  at  least, 
for  the  present — were  marked  by  a  violent  revolution  of 
the  elements.  The  doors  were  not  opened  before  half  past 
7  o'clock,  and  as  I  drove  down  at  that  hour  the  streets  were 
comparatively  empty.  A  solitary  cab  or  two  were  rambling 
in  the  same  direction — a  few  priests  and  students  were  hurry- 
ing on  through  the  rain,  and  the  gallant  Guards,  who  let  us 
pass  unheeded,  sat  indolently  on  their  horses,  having  no 
occasion  to  make  a  display.  .  .  . 

*  A  double  line  of  troops  was  soon  formed,  and  between 
them,  steadily  or  jauntily  as  the  case  might  be,  walked  the 
Fathers,  each  going  to  the  Hall,  and  taking  his  seat  as  he 
arrived.  The  laity,  for  whom  all  the  blessings  of  the  day 
were  specially  designed,  looked  over  the  shoulders  of  the 
soldiers  to  observe  the  bishops.  .  .  .  Many  of  the  seats  of  the 
Fathers  were  vacant,  certainly  nearly  250,  130  or  140  prelates 
having  absented  themselves  only  for  the  day.  .  .  . 

*  His  Holiness,  I  am  told  by  his  friends,  on  entering,  felt 
agitated,  and  trembled  when  he  knelt  to  say  his  prayers,  but 
this  passed  off,  his  voice  was  as  firm  and  as  clear  as  I  have 
ever  heard  it,  and  his  appearance  became  bright  and  cheerful. 
The  Mass  was  short,  giving  promise  of  an  early  closing,  and 
then  came  those  beautiful  hymns  of  the  Roman  Catholic 
Church,  sung  at  intervals,  and  never  sung  more  efi'ectively. 
First  the  Litany  of  the  Saints  was  chanted  by  the  choir, 
taken  up  by  the  Fathers,  and  carried  as  it  were  out  of  the 
Hall  until  it  was  lifted  on  high  by  the  swelling  voices  of 
several  thousands  of  persons  who  clustered  round  the  tomb  of 
St.  Peter.  So  it  was  with  the  Vent  Creator.  Apart  from  the 
essentially  sweet  and  plaintive  character  of  the  music,  the 
body  of  sound  satisfied  all  one's  desires,  giving  the  assurance 
of  something  like  sincerity  and  depth  of  feeling. 

'  Now  there  was  a  lull,  broken  at  last  by  the  shrill  voice 
of  the  Secretary  reading  the  Dogma.  The  real  business  of 
the  day  had  commenced,  and  the  crowd  about  the  door  and 
around  the  baldacchino  became  more  dense.  .  .  .  The  reading 
of  the  Dogma  was  followed  by  the  roll-call  of  the  Fathers, 
and  Placet  after  Placet  followed,  though  not  in  very  quick 


THE   VATICAN   COUNCIL    (1869-1870)  305 

succession.  They  were  uttered  in  louder  and  bolder  tones 
than  on  former  occasions,  either  that  the  echo  was  greater 
from  the  comparative  emptiness  of  the  church  or  that  the 
Fathers  were  pleased  at  being  shorn^  and  amid  their 
utterances  there  was  a  loud  peal  of  thunder. 

'  The  storm  which  had  been  threatening  all  the  morning 
burst  now  with  the  utmost  violence,  and  to  many  a  super- 
stitious mind  might  have  conveyed  the  idea  that  it  was  the 
expression  of  Divine  wrath,  as  "  no  doubt  it  will  be  interpreted 
by  numbers,"  said  one  officer  of  the  Palatine  Guard.  And  so 
the  Placets  of  the  Fathers  struggled  through  the  storm,  while 
the  thunder  pealed  above  and  the  lightning  flashed  in  at 
every  window  and  down  through  the  dome  and  every  smaller 
cupola,  dividing  if  not  absorbing  the  attention  of  the  crowd. 
Placet,  shouted  his  Eminence  or  his  Grace,  and  a  loud  clap  of 
thunder  followed  in  response,  and  then  the  lightning  darted 
about  the  baldacchino  and  every  part  of  the  church  and 
Conciliar  Hall,  as  if  announcing  the  response.  So  it  con- 
tinued for  nearly  one  hour  and  a  half,  during  which  time  the 
roll  was  being  called,  and  a  more  effective  scene  I  never 
witnessed.  Had  all  the  decorators  and  all  the  getters-up  of 
ceremonies  in  Rome  been  employed,  nothing  approaching  to 
the  solemn  splendour  of  that  storm  could  have  been  prepared, 
and  never  will  those  who  saw  it  and  felt  it  forget  the  promul- 
gation of  the  first  Dogma  of  the  Church. 

'  The  faqade  of  the  Hall  had  not  been  removed  as  on 
former  occasions,  only  the  great  door  was  opened,  so  that  it 
could  be  scarcely  called  an  open  Session,  and  people  could 
get  a  glimpse  of  what  was  going  on  only  by  struggling  fiercely 
and  peering  over  one  another's  shoulders,  or  by  standing  at  a 
distance  and  looking  through  a  glass.  I  chose  this  last  and 
better  part.  The  storm  was  at  its  height  when  the  result  of 
the  voting  was  taken  up  to  the  Pope,  and  the  darkness  was 
so  thick  that  a  huge  taper  was  necessarily  brought  and 
placed  by  his  side  as  he  read  the  words,  "  Nosque,  sacro 
approbante  Concilio,  ilia  ita  decernimus,  statuimus  atque 
sancimus  ut  lecta  sunt."  And  again  the  lightning  flickered 
around  the  Hall,  and  the  thunder  pealed. 

'  I  was  standing  at  this  moment  in  the  south  transept 
trying  to  penetrate  the  darkness  which  surrounded  the  Pope, 
when  the  sound  as  of  a  mighty  rushing  something,  I  could 
not  tell  what,  caused  me  to  start  violently,  and  look  about 
me  and  above  me.  It  might  be  a  storm  of  hail.  Such  for 
an  instant  was  my  impression  ;  and  it  grew  and  swelled,  and 
then  the  whole  mystery  was   revealed   by  a  cloud   of  white 

VOL.  II.  X 


3o6  LIFE   OF  CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

handkerchiefs  waving  before  me.  The  signal  had  been  given 
by  the  Fathers  themselves  with  clapping  of  hands.  This  was 
my  imaginary  hailstorm  ;  and  it  was  taken  up  by  the  crowd 
outside  the  Hall,  and  so  the  storm  grew  in  violence  until  at 
length  it  came  to  where  I  stood  ;  Viva  il  Papa  Infallibile  ! 
Viva  il  trionfo  dei  Cattolici !  shouted  the  zealots.  .  .  .  But 
again  the  storm  rose  with  greater  violence  than  before,  and  I 
thought  that,  according  to  English  custom,  we  were  to  have 
three  times  three. 

'  The  Te  Deum  and  the  Benedictions,  however,  put  a  stop 
to  it  ;  the  entire  crowd  fell  on  their  knees  as  I  have  never 
seen  a  crowd  do  before  in  St.  Peter's,  and  the  Pope  blessed 
them  in  those  clear  sweet  tones  distinguishable  among  a 
thousand.  A  third  and  fainter  attempt  was  made  to  get  up 
another  cheer,  but  it  died  away,  and  then  priests,  priestlings, 
monks  and  holy  women,  rushed  down  the  nave  to  get, 
perchance,  another  peep  at  the  Pope  as  he  passed  through 
the  chapels,  but  the  doors  were  closed. 

'  Thus  closed  the  Session  of  the  Ecumenical  Vatican 
Council  for  the  present,  not  prorogued  nor  suspended,  to  meet 
again  on  November  ii.' 

The  arguments  of  the  Bishops  of  the  minority  had  one  all- 
important  result.  In  the  proceedings  of  the  Council  published 
in  the  seventh  volume  of  the  Jesuit  '  Collectio  Lacensis '  we 
see  that  they  pressed  for  words  absolutely  precluding  the  view 
of  extremists,  that  Papal  Infallibility  meant  a  direct  revela- 
tion to  the  Pope,  or  endowed  him  with  such  absolute  power 
as  to  warrant  his  dispensing  with  intercourse  with  the  Church 
in  its  exercise.  A  historical  introduction  to  the  definition 
was  accordingly  written  by  the  learned  theologians,  Fathers 
Franzelin  and  Kleutgen. 

It  was  to  show  '  in  what  manner  the  Roman  Pontiffs 
had  ever  been  accustomed  to  exercise  the  magistei'iuui  of 
faith  in  the  Church,'  and  to  prevent  the  fear  lest  '  the  Roman 
Pontiff  could  proceed  {trocedere possit)  in  judging  of  matters 
of  faith  without  counsel,  deliberation,  and  the  use  of  scientific 
means.'  This  introduction  formed  the  basis  of  what  was 
ultimately  passed  at  the  public  session  of  the  Fathers  on 
July  1 8,  although  the  text  of  Franzelin  and  Kleutgen  was 
not  entirely  approved. 

The  same  point  was  emphasised  again  in  one  of  the 
annotations  to  the  first  draft  of  the  new  formula,  proposed  on 


THE  VATICAN   COUNCIL   (1869-1870)  307 

June  8,  which  formed  the  basis  of  further  modifications.  '  It 
seemed  useful,'  we  read  in  this  annotation,  '  to  insert  in  the 
Chapter  some  things  adapted  to  the  right  understanding  of 
the  dogma,  namely,  that  the  Supreme  Pontiff  does  not  per- 
form his  duty  as  teacher  without  intercourse  and  union  {sine 
conimercio  et  unione)  with  the  Church.'  ^ 

In  the  historical  introduction,  as  finally  published,  the 
safeguard  urged  as  necessary  in  this  connection  was  thus 
expressed  :  '  The  Roman  Pontiffs,  as  the  state  of  things  and 
times  has  made  advisable,  at  one  time  calling  Ecumenical 
Councils  or  finding  out  the  opinion  of  the  Church  dispersed 
through  the  world,  at  another  by  means  of  particular  Synods, 
at  another  using  other  means  of  assistance  which  Divine 
Providence  supplied,  have  defined  those  things  to  be  held 
which  by  God's  aid  they  had  known  to  be  in  agreement  with 
sacred  Scripture  and  the  Apostolic  traditions,  for  the  Holy 
Ghost  was  promised  to  the  successors  of  Peter,  not  that  by 
His  revelation  they  should  disclose  new  doctrines,  but  that 
by  His  assistentia  they  might  preserve  inviolate,  and  expound 
faithfully,  the  revelation  or  deposit  of  faith  handed  down  by 
the  Apostles.' 

The  exaggerations  of  M.  Veuillot  w^ere  thus  definitely 
rejected  by  the  Fathers.  But  Newman  did  not  at  first  know 
this,  and,  having  latterly  despaired  of  a  moderate  definition, 
he  had  fixed  his  hopes  on  the  dogma  not  being  defined  at 
all.  A  definition  corresponding  to  the  views  set  forth  in 
M.  Veuillot's  writings,  or  Cardinal  Antonelli's  reported 
explanations,  was  unthinkable  as  an  obligatory  dogmatic 
formula.  He  would  not,  he  said,  believe  that  the  definition 
would  be  made  until  it  was  un  fait  accompli.  When  the  news 
first  reached  him  that  it  had  been  passed,  with  no  particulars 
as  to  its  scope,  the  blow  was,  as  those  who  knew  him  best  have 
told  the  present  writer,  a  stunning  one.  But  when  he  saw  its 
actual  text  Newman's  fears  were  allayed.  '  I  saw  the  new 
definition  yesterday,'  he  wrote  to  a  friend,  *  and  am  pleased  at 
its  moderation, — that  is,  if  the  doctrine  in  question  is  to  be 
defined  at  all.' 

So  far,  indeed,  as  doctrine  was  concerned,  as  he  said  to 
many  correspondents,  no  more  was  defined  than  he  himself 
'  See  W,  G.  Ward  and  the  Catholic  Revival,  pp.  435-36. 

.\  2 


3o8  LIFE   OF   CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

had  always  held.  The  old  Ultramontanism  of  which  Arch- 
bishop Sibour  and  Montalembcrt  had  been  staunch  defenders 
became  a  doctrine  of  faith.  The  Ultramontanism  of  the 
Univers  received  no  countenance  in  the  text  of  the  definition. 
Nevertheless,  as  careful  readers  of  the  *  Letter  to  the 
Duke  of  Norfolk '  already  know,  Newman  did  not  regard  the 
truth  of  the  doctrine  defined  as  being  by  any  means  the  sole 
question  at  issue.  The  tendency  towards  excessive  centralisa- 
tion which  he  deplored  was  not  a  matter  of  doctrine,  but  of 
policy.  And  his  letters  show  that  he  had  great  anxiety  lest 
the  passing  of  the  definition  should  actually  increase  this 
tendency.  Moreover,  his  indignation  against  some  of  the 
leading  promoters  of  the  decree  was  in  no  way  abated.  In 
the  very  month  in  which  the  definition  was  passed — on 
July  27 — he  wrote  thus  to  Sister  Maria  Pia : 

'  Our  good  God  is  trying  all  of  us  with  disappointment 
and  sorrow  just  now  ;  I  allude  to  what  has  taken  place  at 
Rome — who  of  us  would  not  have  rejoiced  if  the  Fathers  of 
the  Council  had  one  and  all  felt  it  their  duty  to  assent  to  the 
Infallibility  of  the  Holy  Father — }  but  a  gloom  falls  upon 
one,  when  it  is  decreed  with  so  very  large  a  number  of 
dissentient  voices.  It  looks  as  if  our  Great  Lord  were  in 
some  way  displeased  at  us.  Indeed  the  look  of  public 
matters  generally  is  very  threatening,  and  we  need  the 
prayers  of  all  holy  souls  and  all  good  nuns  to  avert  the  evils 
which  seem  coming  upon  the  earth.' 

Though  accepting  the  definition  at  once  himself,  he  did 
not   at    first    feel   justified    in    speaking  of  it  publicly  as  de 
fide  until  the  Council  should  be  terminated.       He  wrote  to 
Mrs.  Froude  as  follows  on  August  8  ; 

'  It  is  too  soon  to  give  an  opinion  about  the  definition. 
I  want  to  know  what  the  Bishops  of  the  minority  say  on  the 
subject,  and  what  they  mean  to  do.  As  I  have  ever  believed 
as  much  as  the  definition  says,  I  have  a  difficulty  in  putting 
myself  into  the  position  of  mind  of  those  who  have  not.  As 
far  as  I  see,  no  one  is  bound  to  believe  it  at  this  moment, 
certainly  not  till  the  end  of  the  Council.  This  I  hold  in 
spite  of  Dr.  Manning.  At  the  same  time,  since  the  Pope  has 
pronounced  the  definition,  I  think  it  safer  to  accept  it  at 
once.  I  very  much  doubt  if  at  this  moment — before  the  end 
of  the  Council,  I  could  get  myself  publicly  to  say  it  was  de 


THE  VATICAN   COUNCIL   (1869-1870)  309 

fide^  whatever   came   of  it — though  I  believe   the   doctrine 
itself. 

'  I  think  it  is  not  usual,  to  promulgate  a  dogma  till  the 
end  of  a  Council,  as  far  as  I  know — and  next,  this  has  been 
carried  under  such  very  special  circumstances.  I  look  for 
the  Council  to  right  itself  in  some  way  before  it  ends.  It 
looks  like  a  house  divided  against  itself,  which  is  a  great 
scandal. 

'  And  now  you  have  my  whole  mind.  I  rule  my  own 
conduct  by  what  is  safer,  which  in  matters  of  faith  is  a  true 
principle  of  theology, — but  (as  at  present  advised,  in  my 
present  state  of  knowledge  or  ignorance,  till  there  are  further 
acts  of  the  Church)  I  cannot  pronounce  categorically  that  the 
doctrine  is  de  fide. 

'  Ever  yours  affectionately, 

John  H.  Newman.^ 

'  P.S. — You  need  not  believe  anything  more  personal  or 
inherent  in  the  Pope  than  you  say. 

'P.S. — [on  another  sheet]  My  postscript  to  the  first 
sheet  is  hardly  intelligible. 

'  The  Pope  is  infallible  in  actu,  not  in  habitu — in  his 
particular  pronouncements  ex  Cathedra,  not  in  his  state  of 
illumination,  as  an  Apostle  might  be,  which  would  be 
inspiration.  T  am  told  some  wicked  men,  not  content  with 
their  hitherto  cruel  conduct,  are  trying  to  bring  in  this 
doctrine  of  inherent  infallibility,  of  which  there  is  not  a  hint 
in  the  definition.  Perhaps  they  would  like  to  go  on  to  call 
him  a  Vice-God,  as  some  one  actually  did,  or  sole  God  to  us. 
Unless  my  informant  was  mad,  I  heard  lately  of  some  one 
(English  or  Irish)  who  said  that  now  we  ought  not  to  pray  to 
God  at  all,  but  only  to  the  Blessed  Virgin — God  preserve 
us,  if  we  have  such  madmen  among  us,  with  their  lighted 
brands.' 

The  evil  consequences  which  he  feared  from  the  definition 
were  two.  It  is  true  that  the  dogma  professed  to  declare 
that  theoretically  the  Papacy  had  received  no  addition  of 
power.  The  infallibility  ascribed  to  Pius  IX.  in  his  ex  cathedra 
utterances  had  belonged  also  to  St.  Peter  and  St.  Gregory 
the  Great.  Yet  the  act  of  the  Council  would  be  likely,  he 
feared  in  the  first  place,  to  lead  in  practice  to  increased  cen- 
tralisation,— to  the  predominance  of  the  new  Ultramontanism 

'  Substantially  the  same  view  is  expressed  in  the  letter  cited  in  tlie  Letter  to 
the-  Duke  of  Norfolk  (see  Difficulties  of  Aitglicatts,  vol.  ii.  p.  303). 


3IO  LIFE   OF   CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

of  M.  Louis  Veuillot  and  W.  G.  Ward.  In  the  second  place, 
he  felt  that  in  this  case,  as  with  the  decree  on  Inspiration, 
the  difficulties  which  had  to  be  met  had  not  been  adequately 
anticipated,  owing  partly  to  the  rapidity  and  secrecy  of 
the  proceedings  of  the  Council,  and  that  the  argumentative 
position  of  Catholic  apologists  would  be  in  consequence  for 
the  time  greatly  embarrassed. 

That  evil  results  should  follow  on  valid  and  true  defini- 
tions, however,  was  no  novelty  in  Church  history.  Confusion 
had  followed  former  Councils,  and  might  well  follow  the 
Vatican  Council. 

Newman's  view  as  to  the  danger  of  increased  centralisa- 
tion is  shown  in  the  following  letter  to  Mr.  O'Neill  Daunt, 
who  had  written  for  further  advice  respecting  the  friend 
already  referred  to  whose  faith  in  the  Church  had  been 
shaken  : 

'  The  Oratory:  August  7th,  1870. 

'  My  dear  Mr.  Daunt, — I  agree  with  you  that  the  wording 
of  the  Dogma  has  nothing  very  difficult  in  it.  It  expresses 
what,  as  an  opinion,  I  have  ever  held  myself  with  a  host  of 
other  Catholics.  But  that  does  not  reconcile  me  to  imposing 
it  upon  others,  and  I  do  not  see  why  a  man  who  denied  it 
might  not  be  as  good  a  Catholic  as  the  man  who  held  it.^ 
And  it  is  a  new  and  most  serious  precedent  in  the  Church 
that  a  dogma  de  fide  should  be  passed  zi'ithoiit  dcfitiite  and 
urgent  cause.  This  to  my  mind  is  the  serious  part  of  the 
matter.  You  put  an  enormous  power  into  the  hands  of  one 
man,  without  check,  and  at  the  very  time,  by  your  act,  you 
declare  that  he  may  use  it  without  special  occasion. 

'  However,  God  will  provide.  We  must  recollect,  there 
has  seldom  been  a  Council  without  great  confusion  after  it, — 
so  it  was  even  with  the  first, — so  it  was  with  third,  fourth, 
and  fifth, — and  [the]  sixth  which  condemned  Pope  Honorius. 
The  difference  between  those  instances  and  this  being,  that 
now  we  have  brought  it  on  ourselves  without  visible 
necessity. 

'  The  great  difficulty  in  the  painful  case  you  write  about 
is,  that  when  the  imagination  gets  excited  on  a  point,  it  is 
next  to  impossible  by  any  show  of  arguments,  however 
sound,  to  meet  the  evil.  I  think  it  may  safely  be  said  to 
your  friend,  that  the  greater  part  of  the  Church  has  long 

'  This  opinion  he  changed  after  it  became  clear  that  the  minority  would  lake 
no  concerted  action. — See  Letter  to  the  Duke  of  Norfolk,  p.  305. 


THE   VATICAN    COUNCIL   (1869-1870)  311 

thought  that  the  Pope  has  the  power  which  he  and  the 
Bishops  of  the  majority  have  declared  is  his  ;  and  that,  if  the 
Church  is  the  work  and  ordinance  of  God,  we  must  have 
a  Httle  faith  in  Him  and  be  assured  that  He  will  provide 
that  there  is  no  abuse  of  the  Pope's  power.  Your  friend 
must  not  assume^  before  the  event,  that  his  power  will  be 
abused.  Perhaps  you  ought  not  to  urge  her  too  strongly, — 
if  left  to  herself,  your  reasons  may  tell  on  her  after  a  while 
though  they  seem  to  fail  at  the  moment. 

'  Most  sincerely  yours, 

John  H.  Newman.' 

The  second  evil  consequence  which  Newman  feared  from 
the  definition  is  referred  to  in  a  letter  written  two  years  later 
to  Dr.  Northcote,  Dr.  Northcote  had  reopened  the  discussion 
of  the  possibility  of  a  Catholic  College  at  Oxford.  Newman 
now  questioned  its  practicability.  The  Vatican  Council  had 
by  its  decrees  on  Scripture  and  on  Papal  Infallibility  raised, 
he  held,  a  new  platform  of  dogma  which  could  not  be 
defended  until  theologians  had  worked  out  a  coherent  view 
on  their  relations  with  contemporary  controversy.  Previously 
to  the  Council,  though  he  had  wished  rather  for  an  Oratory 
than  for  a  College  as  the  centre  of  Catholic  influence  on  the 
University,  he  had  desired  some  centre  of  influence.  Now 
he  considered  its  desirableness  for  the  time  very  doubtful. 

'  Though  I  could  not  advocate,'  he  wrote  on  April  7,  1872, 
'  hitherto  I  should  have  been  quite  able  to  acquiesce  in  any 
plan  for  a  Catholic  College  at  Oxford,  and  that,  on  the 
reasons  you  so  lucidly  and  powerfully  draw  out.  I  should 
have  been  able  till  lately^  but  I  confess  I  am  in  great  doubt 
just  now. 

'  And  for  this  reason  : — the  antagonism  between  the 
Catholic  Church  and  Oxford  has  become  far  more  direct 
and  intense  during  the  last  two  years.  From  all  I  read  and 
hear  it  seems  to  me  that  the  Anglican  Church  and  the 
University  are  almost  or  quite  in  a  whirlpool  of  unbelief,  even 
if  they  be  as  yet  at  some  distance  from  the  gulf  and  its  abyss. 
On  the  other  hand  there  are  the  decrees  of  the  Vatican 
Council. 

*  The  two  main  instruments  of  infidelity  just  now  are 
physical  science  and  history  ;  phj'sical  science  is  used  against 
Scripture,  and  history  against  dogma  ;  the  Vatican  Council 
by  its  decrees  about    the   inspiration   of  Scripture    and  the 


312  LIFE   OF   CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

Infallibility  of  the  Pope  has  simply  thrown  down  the  gauntlet 
to  the  science  and  the  historical  research  of  the  day. 

'  You  will  understand  what  I  mean  without  my  giving 
instances.  The  instance  which  has  last  come  before  me  is 
Professor  Owen's  attack  on  the  Bishop  of  Ely  in  the  February 
Number  of  Fraser. 

*  In  former  times  it  was  by  the  collision  of  Catholic  intellect 
with  Catholic  intellect  that  the  meaning  and  the  limit  of 
dogmatic  decrees  were  determined  ;  but  there  has  been  no 
intellectual  scrutiny,  no  controversies  as  yet  over  the  Vatican 
definitions,  and  their  sense  will  have  to  be  wrought  out  not  in 
friendly  controversy,  but  in  a  mortal  fight  at  Oxford,  in  the 
presence  of  Catholics  and  Protestants,  between  Protestant 
Professors  and  Tutors  and  a  Catholic  College.  I  do  not  see 
how  this  conflict  is  to  be  avoided  if  we  go  to  Oxford.  Ought 
we  to  go  before  we  are  armed  ?  Till  two  years  ago,  Trent 
was  the  last  Council — and  our  theologians  during  a  long  300 
years  had  prepared  us  for  the  fight— now  we  are  new  born 
children,  the  birth  of  the  Vatican  Council,  and  we  are  going 
to  war  without  strength  and  without  arms.  We  do  not  know 
what  exactly  we  hold — what  we  may  grant,  what  we  must 
maintain.  A  man  who  historically  defends  the  Pope's  infalli- 
bility must  almost  originate  a  polemic — can  he  do  so,  as  being 
an  individual,  without  many  mistakes  ?  but  he  makes  them 
on  the  stage  of  a  great  theatre.'  ^ 

'  Two  more  letters  on  this  subject  will  be  found  in  the  Appendix  at  p.  554. 


CHAPTER  XXX 

LIFE   AT   THE   ORATORY 

The  close  sequence  of  the  public  events  which  absorbed 
Newman  up  to  the  end  of  the  Vatican  Council  has  hitherto 
left  little  opportunity  to  the  biographer  for  depicting  what 
may  be  called  the  background  of  his  life.  If  external 
circumstances  were  ever  changing  and  were  full  of  trial  for 
him,  the  home  life  which,  since  he  returned  from  Dublin,  he 
had  led  at  the  Oratory  was  ever  the  same  and  very  peaceful. 
He  loved  its  monotony,  and  echoed  the  words  of  the  '  Imita- 
tion,' '  cella  continuata  dulcescit.'  '  Nothing  is  more  weari- 
some than  change,'  he  wrote  to  Miss  Holmes.  And  to 
another  correspondent,  who  suggested  some  wider  sphere  of 
action  for  him,  he  wrote  in  1864: 

'  I  assure  you  it  would  be  a  strong  arm,  stronger  than  any 
which  I  can  fancy,  that  would  be  able  to  pull  me  out  of  my 
"  nest,"  to  use  the  Oratorian  word, — and  I  am  too  old  for  it 
now — I  could  not  be  picked  out  of  it  without  being  broken 
to  pieces  in  the  process.' 

In  the  short  lull  amid  his  active  work  which  intervened 
between  the  abandonment  of  the  Oxford  scheme  and  the 
Vatican  Council  controversy  he  wrote  to  a  friend  '  in  a  letter 
dated  June  12,  1869  : 

'  I  have  nothing  to  write  about  in  our  happy  state  of  calm, 
luxurious  vegetation.  The  only  drawback  is  that  we  are 
made  for  work,  and,  therefore,  one  has  something  of  a  bad 
conscience  in  standing  all  the  day  idle.  Excepting  this 
"  amari  aliquid,"  I  am  well  content  to  be  as  I  am.' 

Yet  with  his  sensitive  temperament  the  peaceful  habits  of 
his  Oratorian  home  gave  him  in  reality  the  only  surroundings 
which  made  his  best  work  possible. 

'  Mrs.  Sconce. 


314  LIFE   OF  CARDINAL    NEWMAN 

At  the  Oratory,  then,  surrounded  by  devoted  followers 
whose  sympathy  tempered  for  him  the  cold  blasts  of  the 
world's  criticism,  he  lived  almost  unintermittently,  hardly  ever 
paying  visits  even  to  intimate  friends.  Here,  even  amid  the 
troubles  that  have  been  narrated  in  this  work,  he  carried  on 
that  vast  correspondence  with  friends  and  strangers  who  con- 
sulted him  which  formed  half  of  his  life-work.  A  consider- 
able selection  from  this  correspondence  is  given  in  this 
book.^  It  is  to  be  hoped  that  it  will  eventually  be  published 
in  its  entirety.  But  something  must  here  be  said  as  to  the 
characteristics  which  his  letters  exercised  and  revealed.  And 
something  must  be  told  of  his  daily  life  and  habits. 

To  letters  as  an  element  in  biography  he  himself  attached 
great  value.  Writing  to  Father  Coleridge  in  1866  of  the 
proposed  biography  of  Keble,  he  says  : 

'  My  own  notion  of  writing  a  life  is  the  notion  of  Hurrell 
Froude, — viz.  to  do  it  by  letters,  and  to  bring  in  as  little 
letterpress  of  one's  own  as  possible.  Froude  has  so  done 
his  "  Becket."  It  is  far  more  real,  and  therefore  interesting, 
than  any  other  way.     Stanley  has  so  done  in  his  "Arnold."  ' 

With  Newman  the  writing  of  letters  was  a  very  important 
part  of  his  daily  life.  It  was  the  chief  means  of  communication 
with  others  for  one  whose  affections  were  singularly  keen  and 
clinging.  It  was  a  vehicle  for  expressing  the  thoughts  of 
his  full  mind,  without  the  great  anxiety  attaching  to  words 
that  were  printed,  and,  therefore,  in  some  sense  irrevocable. 
And  it  was  the  means  of  exerting  personal  influence  on  the 
large  numbers  who  sought  his  advice  and  judgment  in  diffi- 
culties or  troubles.  He  devoted  immense  labour  to  his  letters. 
When  the  subject  of  writing  was  at  all  difficult  he  would 
make  a  rough  draft  and  keep  it,  sending  to  his  correspon- 
dent a  letter  based  on  this  first  draft,  but  generally  including 
some  changes  in  order  to  bring  out  his  meaning  more  clearly. 
He  kept  the  letters  he  received  and  endorsed  them  with  any 
specially  important  passage  in  his  own  reply.  He  devoted 
many  hours  in  the  day  to  writing,  and  this  habit  continued  as 
long  as  he  was  physically  able  to  write  at  all.  About  1854 
he  began  to  complain  that  the  old  readiness  in  all   writing, 

'  A  good  many  letters  which  are  unconnected  with  this  narrative  of  his  active 
life  are  given  in  the  Appendices. 


LIFE   AT   THE   ORATORY  315 

including  letters,  was  going.  He  now  found  it  harder  to 
begin.  But  once  fairly  at  work  he  wrote  as  well  as  in  earlier 
days.  '  I  am  like  an  old  horse,'  he  said, '  who  stumbles  at  first, 
but  once  he  gets  into  his  trot  he  goes  as  well  as  ever.'  Like 
other  people  with  a  large  correspondence,  he  was  sometimes 
late  in  replying,  but  would  justify  himself  ingeniously. 

'  You  must  be  so  kind,'  he  wrote  in  1864  to  the  Rev.  A,  V. 
Alleyne,  '  as  to  excuse  me  for  not  having  yet  thanked  you  for 
your  very  kind  letter  of  last  month.  At  the  time  I  was  too 
busy  to  write  any  letter,  and  since  then  I  have  been  gradually 
making  up  my  arrears  of  correspondence.  But,  as  a  man 
who  has  for  some  time  lived  beyond  his  income  is  a  long 
while  before  he  can  by  his  retrenchments  make  up  for  past 
extravagance,  and,  as  we  all  feel  how  difficult  it  is  in  walking 
to  catch  up  another  unless  we  run  or  he  stops,  so  am  I  very 
much  put  about  in  my  attempts  to  make  up  for  my  delin- 
quencies of  letter  writing  in  May  and  June,  while  I  also 
have  still  to  answer  the  current  letters  of  each  fresh  day  and 
week.  And  moreover,  when  once  I  feel  that  my  character 
for  punctuality  is  gone  in  this  or  that  quarter,  I  am  naturally 
led  on  to  think  that  a  more  continued  silence  will  not  make 
me  worse  in  the  eyes  of  my  correspondent  than  one  of  half 
the  length.' 


'fc.' 


He  was  very  particular  as  to  his  pens.  A  bad  steel  pen, 
he  found,  not  only  made  writing  troublesome,  and  the  results 
untidy,  but  actually  confused  the  mind  of  the  writer  and 
damaged  the  letters  as  compositions. 

'I  have  a  pen,'  he  tells  a  friend,  'which  writes  so  badly 
that  it  re-acts  upon  my  composition  and  my  spelling.  How 
odd  this  is  !  but  it  is  true.  I  think  best  when  I  write.  I 
cannot  in  the  same  way  think  while  I  speak.  Some  men  are 
brilliant  in  conversation,  others  in  public  speaking, — others 
find  their  minds  act  best  when  they  have  a  pen  in  their 
hands.  But  then,  if  it  is  a  bad  pen  ?  a  steel  pen  ?  that  is  my 
case  just  now,  and  thus  I  find  my  brain  won't  work, — much 
as  I  wish  it.' 

His  past  correspondence  was  of  intense  interest  to  him  as 
a  solemn  record  of  his  life.  So,  too,  were  his  journals  and 
diaries.  When  over  seventy  years  of  age  he  transcribed  from 
beginning  to  end  the  pencil  notes  in  his  diaries,  adding  the 
record  of  earlier  events  which  happened   before  he  kept  a 


3i6  LIFE   OF   CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

diary,  and  beginning  with  his  birth.  He  also  devoted  much 
time  to  arranging  his  letters  and  papers — this  he  began  in  the 
sad  years  preceding  the  *  Apologia,'  and  resumed  after  the 
Vatican  Council. 

'As  io personal  matters,'  he  wrote  to  Henry  Wilberforce 
in  i860,  'my  prospect  is  curious,  as  most  others  must  feel 
who  are  of  my  age.  According  as  a  man  dies  at  60,  70,  or 
80,  his  heirs  are  different,  and  his  papers  come  into  different 
hands.  It  is  a  strange  feeling  attends  on  making  abstract 
arrangements.  I  have  not  a  notion  who  it  is  to  be  who  will 
read  any  direction  I  give,  or  look  over  any  miscellaneous 
materials.  This  makes  it  very  difficult  to  determine  what 
to  keep  and  what  to  destroy.  Things  most  interesting  and 
dear  to  myself  may  be  worthless  in  the  eyes  of  those  to 
whom  my  papers  fall.  Fancy  my  properties  coming  into 
possession  of  Dr.  Ullathorne,  whom  I  mention  with  all 
respect, — or  of  others  whom,  from  want  of  respect  for  them, 
I  don't  mention  ! ' 

The  stern  censure  of  all  approach  to  literary  display 
which  was  universal  in  the  Tractarian  party  ^  had  its  effect 
on  the  quality  of  Newman's  letters,  as  we  have  already  seen 
that  it  had  on  his  verses.  He  is  always  reserved  in  them, 
breaking  out  only  occasionally  and  accidentally,  almost  in 
spite  of  himself,  into  raciness.  The  humour,  wit,  and  sarcasm, 
the  rhetorical  effectiveness,  which  the  King  William  Street 
lectures  or  those  on  '  The  Present  Position  of  Catholics  '  show 
that  he  had  so  abundantly  at  his  command,  hardly  ever  appear 
in  his  letters,  which  are,  in  this  respect,  not  a  vehicle  of  com- 
plete self-expression  as  Carlyle's  are.  Or,  to  speak  more 
accurately,  they  express  the  character  as  a  whole  rather  than 
mirror  completely  the  thoughts  and  feelings.  For  when  we 
realise  the  reserve  and  habitual  deliberation  of  the  writer, 
which  limited  their  range,  we  can  recognise  very  much  of  the 
man  in  his  letters,  and  in  their  very  limitations.     One  quality 

'  It  should  be  noted  that  he  would  sometimes,  perhaps  in  consequence  of  this 
tradition,  depreciate  his  own  writings.  But  such  remarks  must  not  be  taken  too 
seriously.  In  a  letter  to  Miss  Bathurst  he  speaks  of  publishing  '  the  trash  I 
have  written  about  the  Turks.'  He  took  the  'Second  Spring'  from  W.  G. 
Ward's  hands,  with  the  words  '  Don't  read  that  rubbish.'  Yet  when  Hope-Scott 
took  a  similar  disparagement  of  the  University  Sermons  literally,  Newman  wrote 
of  the  volume,  somewhat  nettled,  '  it  will  be  the  best,  though  not  the  most  perfect, 
book  I  have  done.' — Letters,  ii.  407. 


LIFE   AT  THE   ORATORY  317 

which  never  fails  is  the  habit  and  power  of  adapting  his 
mind  to  that  of  his  correspondent.  There  are  very  subtle 
differences  in  style  and  in  subject  between  his  letters  to 
different  persons.  Even  when  the  subject  is  the  same,  the 
way  of  treating  it  will  differ.  It  was  a  saying  of  his  that 
the  same  thought  in  different  persons  is  probably  as  different 
as  their  faces.  And,  in  writing,  a  great  difference  in  general 
effect  may  be  due  to  variations,  each  of  them  minute.  He 
himself  would  express  the  same  thought  differently  to 
different  correspondents.  In  this  respect  his  letters  are  the 
antithesis  to  those  of  Mr.  Gladstone. 

His  letters  to  young  friends,  the  children  of  his  Oxford 
contemporaries,  show  this  characteristic  as  much  as  any. 
I  select  a  few  samples  belonging  to  different  dates. 
Here  is  quite  a  simple  one  written  in  1855  to  Isy  Froude, 
daughter  of  William  Froude,  in  thanks  for  the  gift  of  a 
penwiper : 

'6  Harcourt  Street,  Dublin,  July  9th,  1855. 

'  My  dearest  Isy, — I  am  very  glad  to  have  your  present. 
A  penwiper  is  always  useful.  It  lies  on  the  table,  and  one 
can't  help  looking  at  it.  I  have  one  in  use,  made  for  me  by 
a  dear  aunt,  now  dead,  whom  I  knew  from  a  little  child,  as 
I  was  once.  When  I  take  it  up,  I  always  think  of  her, 
and  I  assure  you  I  shall  think  of  you,  when  I  see  yours. 
I  have  another  at  Birmingham  given  me  by  Mrs.  Phillipps 
of  Torquay,  in  the  shape  of  a  bell. 

'  This  day  is  the  anniversary  of  one  of  the  few  times  I 
have  seen  a  dear  brother  of  mine  for  22  years.  He  returned 
from  Persia,  I  from  Sicily,  where  I  nearly  died,  the  same  day. 
I  saw  him  once  1 5  years  ago,  and  now  I  have  not  seen  him 
for  9  years. 

'  My  dear  Isy,  when  I  think  of  your  brother,  I  will  think 
of  you.  I  heard  a  report  he  was  to  go  and  fight  the  Russians. 
I  have  another  godson,  called  Edward  Bouverie  Pusey,  who 
is  a  sailor,  already  fighting  the  Russians  either  in  the  Baltic 
or  at  Sebastopol. 

'  Ever  yours  affection atel}-, 

John  H.  Newman 

of  the  Oratory. 

'  P.S.     You    will  have  a  hard  matter  to  read  this  letter.' 

Here  is  a  more  characteristic  letter  of  thanks — written  in 
rhyme  in  1863 — to  J.  W.  Bowden's  niece,  Charlotte  Bowden 


J 


18  LIFE   OF   CARDINAL   NEWMAN 


(he  uses  her  child's  nickname  of  '  Chat '),  who  had  sent  him 
some  cakes  baked  by  herself: 

*  Who  is  it  that  moulds  and  makes 
Round,  and  crisp,  and  fragrant  cakes  ? 
Makes  them  with  a  kind  intent, 
As  a  welcome  compliment, 
And  the  best  that  she  can  send 
To  a  venerable  friend  ? 
One  it  is,  for  whom  I  pray. 
On  St.  Philip's  festal  day, 
With  a  loving  heart,  that  she 
Perfect  as  her  cakes  may  be. 
Full  and  faithful  in  the  round 
Of  her  duties  ever  found. 
When  a  trial  comes,  between 
Truth  and  falsehood  cutting  keen  ; 
Yet  that  keenness  and  completeness 
Tempering  with  a  winning  sweetness. 

Here's  a  rhyming  letter,  Chat, 
Gift  for  gift,  and  tit  for  tat. 

'  J.  H.  N. 

*  May  26th,  1863.' 

Here  is  another  to  Helen  Church,  the  Dean's  daughter 
(afterwards  Mrs.  Paget),  who  had  given  him  Lewis  Carroll's 
*  Hunting  of  the  Snark': 

'  My  dear  Helen, — Let  me  thank  you  and  your  sisters 
without  delay  for  the  amusing  specimen  of  imaginative 
nonsense  which  came  to  me  from  you  and  them  this  morning. 
Also,  as  your  gift,  it  shows  that  you  have  not  forgotten  me, 
though  a  considerable  portion  of  your  lives  has  passed  since 
you  saw  me.  And,  thanking  you,  I  send  you  also  my  warmest 
Easter  greetings  and  good  wishes. 

*  The  little  book  is  not  all  of  it  nonsense,  though  amusing 
nonsense  ;  it  has  two  pleasant  prefixes  of  another  sort.  One 
of  them  is  the  "  Inscription  to  a  Dear  Child,"  the  style  of 
which,  in  words  and  manner,  is  so  entirely  of  the  School  of 
Keble,  that  it  could  not  have  been  written  had  the  "  Christian 
Year  "  never  made  its  appearance. 

'The  other,  "The  Easter  Greeting  to  Every  Child,  etc.," 
is  likely  to  touch  the  hearts  of  old  men  more  than  those  for 
whom  it  is  intended.  I  recollect  well  my  own  thoughts  as  I 
lay  in  my  crib  in  the  early  spring,  with  outdoor  scents, 
sounds  and  sights  wakening  me  up,  and  especially  the 
cheerful    ring   of    the    mower's  scythe  on   the  lawn,  which 


LIFE   AT  THE   ORATORY  319 

Milton  long  before  me  had  noted  ;  and  how  in  coming  down- 
stairs slowly,  for  I  brought  down  both  feet  on  each  step,  I 
said  to  myself  "  This  is  June !  "  Though  what  my  particular 
experience  of  June  was,  and  how  it  was  broad  enough  to  be 
a  matter  of  reflection,  I  really  cannot  tell. 

'  Can't  you,  Mary,  and  Edith,  recollect  something  of  the 
same  kind,  though  you  may  not  think  so   much  of  it  as  I 

do  now  ? 

'  May  the  day  come  for  all  of  us,  of  which  Easter  is  the 
promise,  when  that  first  spring  may  return  to  us,  and  a 
sweetness  which  cannot  die  may  gladden  our  garden. 

'  Ever  yours  affectionately, 

John  H.  Newman.' 

I  may  add  another  quite  simple  letter  to  the  twin  sisters, 
Helen  and  Mary  Church,  dated  on  his  own  birthday  in  1878, 
and  wishing  them  joy  on  theirs  : 

'  The  Oratory  :  Feb,  21st,  1878. 

'  My  dear  Helen  and  Mary, — How  shall  I  best  show 
kindness  to  you  on  your  birthday  ? 

'  It  is  by  wishing  and  praying  that  year  by  year  you  may 
grow  more  and  more  in  God's  favour  and  in  inward  peace, — 
in  an  equanimity  and  cheerfulness  under  all  circumstances 
which  is  the  fruit  of  faith,  and  a  devotion  which  finds  no  duties 
difficult,  for  it  is  inspired  by  love. 

'  This  I  do  with  all  my  heart,  and  am, 
'  My  dear  children. 

Very  affectionately  yours, 

John  H.  Newman.' 

Much  quiet  humour  is  found  in  letters  to  intimate  friends, 
and  his  sense  of  fun  is  apparent  in  many  which  are  not 
humorous.  When  Mr.  John  Pollen  lends  him  a  novel  which 
takes  his  fancy,  Newman  describes  in  a  letter  how  he  is 
ashamed  to  find  that  he  wakes  up  at  night  laughing  at  the 
remembrance  of  it.  '  I  condole  with  you,'  he  writes  to  the 
same  correspondent  in  i860,  'both  on  your  fortieth  birthday 
and  your  accident  to  your  face,  for  I  have  undergone  both  of 
them — the  latter  when  I  was  at  school,  running  against  a 
wall  in  the  dark,  and  I  remember  the  shock  to  this  day.' 
When  Ambrose  St.  John  urges  him  to  write  some  verses  on 
Purgatory,  Newman  sends  him  from  Dublin  the  beautiful  lines 
beginning  '  Help,  Lord,  the  souls  that  Thou  hast  made,'  with 
the  following  explanation  : 


320  LIFE   OF   CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

'6  Harcourt  Street:  Jan.  9th,  1857. 
'  My  dear  A., — I  am  hardly  recovered  from  my  seasickness 
even  now.  I  have  generally  found  this  a  state  favourable  to 
versifying.  Philosophers,  like  yourself,  must  explain  why. 
Various  of  the  Lyras  were  written  in  this  state.  Accord- 
ingly, I  have  written  the  Purgatory  verses  which  you  asked 
me  for.  Perhaps  you  will  say  they  do  not  do  justice  to  my 
seasickness.  You  will  see,  I  have  observed  your  wish  of  having 
a  repetition  verse. 

'  Ever  yours  affly., 

J.  H.  N.' 

What  Dean  Church  has  called  his  '  naturalness '  is  a 
marked  feature  in  some  of  the  letters.  He  chaffs  his  intimate 
friends  familiarly.  He  writes  to  Henry  Wilberforce,  who  in 
1856  was  acquiring  the  editor's  professional  manner  in  his 
editorial  notes  to  the  Catholic  Standard: 

'  I  candidly  say  I  think  your  puffs  of  yourself  infra  dig., 
and  have  felt  it  a  very  long  while :  e.g.  "  We  were  the  first 
to  state  that  the  Conference  is  to  meet  early  in  March 
(1856)" — "As  we  said  last  week" — "Our  important  papers 
from  Kamtschatka  " — "  That  great  man,  our  correspondent  at 
Timbuctoo  " — "  the  only  Catholic  English  paper  " — as  the 
Morning  Chronicle  says,  the  only  "  exclusive  information."  ' 

Writing  to  Ambrose  St.  John  in  the  same  year  on   his 

birthday,  he  thus  begins  his  letter  : 

'July  3rd,  1856. 

'  My  poor  old  man, — Yes,  I  congratulate  you  on  being 
between,  what  is  it,  50  or  60  ?  No,  only  40  or  50.  My  best 
congratulations  that  life  is  now  so  mature.  May  your  shadow 
never  be  less,  and  your  pocket  never  so  empty  !  But  why  are 
you  always  born  on  days  when  my  Mass  is  engaged  .-•  I 
shall  say  Mass  for  you  to-morrow  and  Monday.' 

Again,  in  1864,  when  Father  Ambrose,  having  sprained 
his  wrist  and  undergone  other  troubles,  talks  of  a  holiday 
in  Switzerland  : 

'I  rejoice,'  Newman  writes,  'to  find  that  you  write  so 
well — but  don't  presume.  You  won't  be  content  without 
some  new  accident.  You  forget  you  are  an  old  man.  In 
one  year  (from  your  volatility,  most  unsuitable  at  your  time 
of  life)  you  have  broken  your  ribs  and  smashed  your  wrist. 
This  is  the  07ily  difficulty  I  have  in  your  going  to  Lucerne. 
You  will   be  clambering  a   mountain,  bursting  your   lungs. 


LIFE   AT  THE   ORATORY  321 

cracking  your  chest,  twisting  your  ankles,  and  squashing 
your  face — and  your  nieces  will  have  to  pick  you  up.  If  you 
will  not  do  this,  I  shall  rejoice  at  your  going  to  Lucerne.' 

When  Henry  Wilberforce  wanted  Ambrose  St.  John  to 
join  him  in  a  voyage  to  Jamaica  in  1 871,  with  a  view  to 
benefiting  his  health,  Newman  thus  conveyed  to  Wilberforce 
his  friend's  reply  to  the  proposal  : 

'  Ambrose  won't.  He  is  as  obstinate  as  a  pig.  He  says 
he  is  quite  well.  And  this  is  the  beginning  and  the  end  of 
it.  He  says  if  he  goes  somewhere,  it  shall  be  to  Australia — 
and  he  says  Jamaica  means  Jericho.  He  stupefies  and  over- 
powers me  by  his  volubility.' 

The  Jesuit  Fathers  at  Farm  Street  asked  Newman  to 
preach  at  their  Manchester  church  on  the  feast  of  the 
Immaculate  Conception  in  1872,  and  he  thus  replied  : 

'The  Oratory  :  Oct.  25th,  1872. 

'  St.  Philip  of  Birmingham  presents  his  best  respects  and 
homage  to  Our  Lady  of  the  Immaculate  Conception,  and, 
desirous  as  he  is  in  all  respects  to  meet  the  wishes  of  his 
dear  Mother,  he  cannot  grant  her  request  in  this  instance. 

'  Because,  he  should  be  contravening  one  of  the  rules  of 
his  own  children,  if  he  allowed  them  or  one  of  them  to 
preach  out  of  their  own  Church.  They  are  a  home  people — 
they  do  not  preach — they  only  converse  or  discourse  to  their 
own  penitents  and  scholars. 

'  Besides,  as  to  his  present  Superior  at  Birmingham,  he 
feels  that  he  could  not  let  him  go  to  Manchester,  without 
letting  him  go  to  most  places  in  England  and  Scotland.  He 
knows  that  the  Father  in  question  has  declined  a  pressing 
invitation  of  this  kind  for  this  very  month,  and  he  would  not 
place  him  in  so  ungracious  a  position  as  to  be  refusing 
friends  and  benefactors,  yet  in  the  same  breath  to  be  accept- 
ing an  invitation  elsewhere,  however  kind  and  flattering  it 
may  be  to  that  Father. 

'  St.  Philip  concludes  with  saying  that  he  has  set  it  all 
right  with  St.  Ignatius,  whose  vocation  is  altogether  different 
from  that  of  his  own  sons  ;  and  he  is  quite  sure  that  the 
good  Jesuit  Fathers  will  not  think  that  any  want  of  courtesy 
is  shown  to  Our  Lady,  St.  Ignatius,  or  the  said  Fathers,  by 
the  said  Superior's  declining  the  compliment  paid  him,  for 
St.  Philip  takes  the  responsibility  of  it  on  himself. 
'  To  the  glorious  and  blessed  Mary 

from  St.  Philip  Neri,  Apostle  of  Rome.' 
VOL.  II.  y 


322  LIFE   OF  CARDINAL  NEWMAN 

A  similar  touch  of  humanity  is  often  visible  in  Newman's 
controversial  correspondence.  In  the  course  of  a  protracted 
argument  with  Canon  Jenkins  on  the  Roman  claims,  his 
opponent  sends  a  photograph  which  Newman  thus  gratefully 
acknowledges : 

'The  Oratory:   March  27,  1877. 

'  My  dear  Canon  Jenkins, — I  ought  before  now  to  have 
thanked  you  for  your  photograph — which  as  a  work  of  art  is 
very  good,  though  I  did  not  observe,  till  your  letter  pointed 
out,  the  fault  in  the  eyes.  But  I  agree  with  you  that  photo- 
graphists visit  their  unhappy  sitters  with  too  fierce  a  light 
which  makes  them  frown,  or  shut  their  eyes  or  otherwise 
distort  their  features.  But  your  own  face  shows  nothing  but 
patience,  or  serenity,  under  the  infliction.  It  is  young  too 
for  the  age  you  tell  me. 

'  I  am  quite  ready  to  take  your  quartett  or  quintett.  Do 
you  really  think  Celestine,  Nestorius,  Cyril,  and  John  of 
Antioch  would  have  been  a  possible  court  of  final  appeal  .■* 
No  more  than  the  Kilkenny  cats. 

'  Yours  most  truly, 

John  H.  Newman.' 

And  again  to  the  same  correspondent : 

'  Your  letter  is  an  important  one,  and  requires  careful 
reading.  If  I  don't  say  at  once  I  assent  to  all  it  says,  it  is 
but  because  I  am  losing  my  memory  and  forget  to-morrow 
what  I  have  read  to-day.  Thus  facts  become  like  billiard 
balls,  which  run  away  from  you  when  you  wish  to  get  hold  of 
them.' 

Writing  to  the  late  Canon  MacColl  he  declines  a  suggested 
controversy  thus  : 

'  Mr.  A.  B.  is  one  of  the  most  impertinent  men  that  I  ever 
came  across.  Though  very  different,  I  think  he  is  another 
Golightly.  ...  To  answer  Mr.  A.  B.  seriously  is  like  fighting 
with  a  blue  bottle  fly.' 

Some  of  his  notes  already  cited  recall  the  fact  that  the 
minds  of  the  lower  animals  deeply  interested  him.  He  would 
observe  their  doings  with  great  curiosity.  We  have  already 
seen  his  interest  in  the  emotions  of  Father  Ambrose's 
favourite  cow.  In  1852  Hope-Scott  gave  him  a  pony  named 
Charlie,  which  for  many  years  Newman  watched  with  grave 
interest,  and  its  well-being  and  performances  are  referred  to 


LIFE   AT  THE   ORATORY  323 

frequently  in  letters  to  those  who  were  interested  in  the 
animal.  Charlie's  death  is  thus  chronicled  in  a  letter  to  its 
giver  on  December  6,  1866  : 

'Charlie,  the  virtuous  pony,  which  you  gave  us  14  years 
ago,  has  at  length  departed  this  life.  He  continued  his 
active  and  useful  habits  up  to  last  summer — benemeritus, 
but  not  emeritus. 

'Then  he  fell  hopelessly  stiff,  lame,  and  miserable.  His 
mind  was  clear  to  the  last — and,  without  losing  his  affection 
for  human  kind,  he  commenced  a  lively,  though,  alas,  not 
lasting  friendship  with  an  impudent  colt  of  a  donkey — who 
insulted  him  in  his  stiffness,  and  teased  and  tormented  him 
from  one  end  of  the  field  to  the  other.  We  cannot  guess 
his  age,  he  was  old  when  he  came  to  us.  He  lies  under  two 
sycamore  trees,  which  will  be,  by  their  growth  and  beauty, 
the  living  monument,  or  even  transformation  of  a  faithful 
servant,  while  his  spirit  is  in  the  limbo  of  quadrupeds.  Rest 
to  his  manes  !  I  suppose  I  may  use  the  pagan  word  of  a 
horse.' 

Newman  was  interested  in  the  garden  at  Rednal.  In 
1 87 1  his  cousin  Mrs.  Deane  offered  to  send  him  a  mulberry 
and  a  filbert,  which  received  his  close  attention. 

'  I  thank  you  for  your  care  about  my  mulberry,'  he  wrote. 
'  I  am  not  at  all  impatient  about  it,  so  that  I  know  it  is 
coming.  Keep  it  another  year,  if  you  think  better.  I  have 
been  trying  to  gain  from  books  some  hints  about  the  treat- 
ment of  mulberry  trees.  Tell  me  anything  you  know  about 
it.  Your  travels,  I  fear,  never  lie  in  this  direction — else,  I 
should  like  you  to  choose  a  place  for  it.  Our  cottage  is  at 
Rednal,  7  or  8  miles  from  Birmingham — and  our  station  is 
Barnt  Green,  or  Northfield,  or  Bromsgrove,  on  the  Midland 
line. 

'  Alas,  our  aspect  is  east — we  have  a  great  deal  of  hot 
summer  sun  in  the  morning  and  noon — and  a  great  deal  of 
keen  north-east  wind  in  winter  and  spring.  We  have  a  sort 
of  wilderness,  full  of  trees,  which  would  protect  the  stranger, 
and  we  could  make  a  circle  round  it  of  grass — the  soil  is  a 
mass  of  decayed  fir  leaves  with  rock  under.  Does  it  require 
depth  ? 

'  Thank  you  too  for  the  filbert.  But  give  them  a  real 
good  nursery  time  in  your  climate,  before  they  are  trans- 
planted into  this.' 

Alas  !  the  mulberry,  loved  by  the  gods,  died  young. 

Y  2 


324  LIFE   OF   CARDINAL  NEWMAN 

'  How  the  years  run,'  he  writes  on  his  birthday  in  1873. 
'  I  cannot  believe  a  whole  twelvemonth  has  passed  since  I 
planted  the  poor  little  mulberry.  We  watched  it  with  great 
anxiety,  but  it  would  not  rally.' 

I  have  purposely  placed  first  among  my  specimens  of 
Newman's  characteristic  letter-writing  those  which  illustrate 
the  lighter  and  brighter  side  of  his  nature.  Their  comparative 
rarity  is  as  significant  as  the  qualities  they  show.  Life  was 
to  him  a  most  vivid  reality  in  its  every  aspect,  and  he  realised 
its  humorous  side  and  the  interest  of  small  events.  But  what 
was  trivial,  however  keenly  it  was  appreciated,  never  occupied 
in  his  mind  a  place  beyond  its  true  proportion.  Above  all, 
his  attention  was  constantly  fixed  on  the  duties  of  the  day,  for 
himself  and  for  those  who  sought  his  advice.  The  great  bulk 
of  his  letters  deal  with  serious  problems  or  the  events  of  life, 
whether  of  public  and  general  interest,  or  relating  to  indivi- 
duals who  consulted  him.  Quite  simple  letters  in  the  great 
crises  of  life  and  death  seldom  fail  to  have  a  beauty  of  their 
own,  and  to  show  the  delicacy  of  his  sympathy. 

Here  is  one  to  a  domestic  servant  who  had  lost  her 
sister : 

The  Oratory  :  Jan.  9th,  1877. 

'  My  dear  Child, — Though  my  intention  was  engaged  on 
the  26th  and  I  could  not  say  Mass  as  you  wished,  I  have  not 
foro-otten,  and  I  hope  to  say  Mass  for  you  to-morrow,  the  loth. 
There  is  always  a  throng  of  intentions  to  be  kept  at  this  time. 
To-day  is  the  anniversary  of  Mrs.  Wootten's  death,  and  now 
we  are  in  great  distress  about  Fr.  Caswall.  He  cannot  live, 
tho'  the  time  of  his  death  is  uncertain.     Say  a  prayer  for  him. 

'  I  am  sorry  that  you  should  still  be  so  far  from  well,  but 
God  will  bless  and  keep  you  in  His  own  good  way.  We  never 
can  trust  Him  too  much.  All  things  turn  to  good  to  them 
who  trust  Him.  I  too  know  what  it  is  to  lose  a  sister,  t 
lost  her  49  years  ago,  and,  though  so  many  years  have  past, 
I  still  feel  the  pain. 

'  God  bless  and  keep  you  this  New  Year. 

'  Yours  most  truly  in  Christ, 

John  H.  Newman.' 

When  the  venerable  Mother  Margaret  Mary  Hallahan — 
Provincial  of  the  Dominican  sisters — died  in  1868,  he  wrote 
thus  to  one  of  her  spiritual  children.  Sister  Mary  Gabriel : 


LIFE   AT   THE  ORATORY  325 

'  My  dear  Child, — What  can  I  say  to  console  you  better 
than  what  you  must  be  saying  to  yourself,  that  your  long 
sorrow  is  over,  and  that  now,  after  her  intense  sufferings,  your 
dear  Mother  is  at  rest,  or  rather  in  Heaven  ? 

'  If  ever  there  were  persons  who  had  cause  to  rejoice  and 
whose  joy  is  but  intermeddled  with,  not  increased  by  the 
words  of  a  third  person,  you  are  they. 

'  What  can  you  all  desire  more  than  that  your  Com- 
munities should  receive  so  special  a  consecration  as  is  granted 
to  you  in  the  agony  and  triumph  of  such  a  Mother  ? 

*  It  is  a  thought  to  raise  and  encourage  you  while  you 
live,  and  is  the  augury  of  many  holy  and  happy  deaths. 

'  Pray  for  an  old  man  and  believe  me 

'  Ever  yours  affectionately  in  Xt., 

John  H.  Newman 

of  the  Oratory.' 

To  another  of  the  Dominican  Sisters  at  Stone,  of  whose 
life  the  doctors  despaired,  he  wrote  in  1876  : 

*  My  dear  Child, — I  have  not  forgotten  your  needs,  and 
was  saying  Mass  for  you  on  the  Anniversary  of  the  day  our 
dear  Lord  took  your  Mother  Margaret. 

'  I  do  not  know  how  to  be  sorry,  for  you  are  going  to  what 
is  far  better  than  anything  here  below,  better  far  even  than 
the  peaceful  company  of  a  holy  sisterhood. 

'God's  Angel  will  be  with  you  every  step  you  take — and 
I  will  try  to  help  you  with  my  best  remembrances  and  sacred 
wishes  as  you  descend  into  the  valley — but  you  are  to  be 
envied  not  lamented  over,  because  you  are  going  to  your  own 
Lord  and  God,  your  Light,  your  Treasure,  and  your  Life. 
Only  pray  for  me  in  your  place  of  peace  and  rest,  for  I  at 
most  can  be  but  a  little  time  behind  you. 

'  Yet  a  little  and  a  very  little  while,  and  He  that  is  to  come 
will  come,  and  will  not  tarry. 

'  Ever  yours  affectionately  in  Xt., 

John  H.  Newman.' 

To  this  letter  of  sympathy  at  the  close  of  life,  let  us  add 
one  sentence  of  sympathy,  in  life's  dawn,  with  all  its  bright 
possibilities.  When  the  daughter  of  an  old  Oxford  friend  ' 
was  born  on  the  Festival  of  the  Transfiguration  in  i860,  he 
wrote  to  her  father  : 

'  I  earnestly  pray  that  the  festival  on  which  she  was  born 
may  overshadow  her  all  through  her  life,  and  that  she  may 

'  W.  G.  Ward. 


326  LIFE   OF   CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

find  it  "good  to  be  here"  till  that  time  of  blessed  transfigura- 
tion when  she  will  find  from  experience  that  it  is  better  to  be 
in  heaven.' 

Here  is  another  letter  addressed  to  one  who  after  some 
trial  and  heart-searching  had  resolved  to  enter  the  religious 
life: 

To  Miss  Bathurst. 

'Edgbaston:  Nov.  8th,  1853. 

•  We  must  be  very  grateful  for  so  good  a  beginning — it 
comes  of  His  Infinite  Mercy  who  loves  you  as  entirely  and 
wholly  as  if  there  were  no  other  souls  on  earth  to  love  or 
take  care  of.  You  are  choosing  Him  for  your  portion  and 
your  All — and  He  is  your  All,  and  nothing  will  or  can  harm 
you,  though  your  enemy  may  try  to  frighten  you.  And  then 
the  Angels  will  smile  at  each  other  and  upon  you  at  your 
fears  and  troubles,  and  will  say,  "  This  poor  little  soul  is  in  a 
great  taking,  as  if  God  were  leaving  her — but  He  is  All- 
faithful,  and  has  loved  her  everlastingly,  and  will  preserve 
her  to  the  end." ' 

'  You  always  understand  everything,'  his  sister  had  said 
to  him  as  a  boy  when  he  made  her  dry  her  tears  ;  and  his  in- 
numerable letters  of  comfort  to  those  who  poured  out  their 
troubles  to  him  never  strike  a  false  note.  Writing  to  nuns  he 
might  urge  considerations  which  only  their  constant  medita- 
tion on  the  unseen  world  enabled  them  so  to  realise  as  to  find 
comfort  in  them.  An  instance  of  this  is  the  letter  to  Sister 
Mary  Gabriel  quoted  above.  For  those  less  strong  in  faith  he 
would  choose  other  thoughts.  But  to  all  his  friends  he  made 
trouble  more  bearable  by  showing  how  truly  he  understood 
it,  and  in  some  cases  how  he  himself  shared  it.  He  never 
suggested  for  comfort  a  thought  which  owing  to  the  character 
or  circumstances  of  his  friend  might  fail  of  effect.  Let  a  few 
of  these  letters  be  set  down — taken  almost  at  random. 

To   Miss   Holmes. 

'July  31, 'SO. 
'  As  time  goes  on,  you  will  know  yourself  better  and  better. 
Time  does  that  for  us,  not  only  by  the  increase  of  experience, 
but  by  the  withdrawal  of  those  natural  assistances  to  devotion 
and  self-surrender  which  youth  furnishes.  When  the  spirits 
are  high  and  the  mind  fervent,  though  we  may  have  wayward- 
ness and  perverseness  which  we  have  not  afterwards,  yet  we 


LIFE  AT  THE   ORATORY  327 

have  something  to  battle  against  them.  But  when  men  get 
old,  as  I  do,  then  they  see  how  little  grace  is  in  them,  and  how 
much  that  seemed  grace  was  but  nature.  Then  the  soul  is  left 
to  the  lassitude,  torpor,  dejection,  and  coldness  which  is  its  real 
state,  with  no  natural  impulses,  affections  or  imaginations  to 
rouse  it,  and  things  which  in  youth  seemed  easy  then  become 
difficult.  Then  it  finds  how  little  self-command  it  has,  and 
how  little  it  can  throw  off  the  tempter,  when  he  comes  behind 
and  places  it  in  a  certain  direction  or  position,  or  throws  it 
down,  or  places  his  foot  upon  it.  Then  it  understands  at 
length  its  own  nothingness  ;  not  that  it  has  less  grace  than  it 
had,  but  it  has  nothing  but  grace  to  aid  it.  It  is  the  sign  of 
a  Saint  to  groiu  ;  common  minds,  even  though  they  are  in  the 
grace  of  God,  dwindle,  (i.e.  seem  to  do  so)  as  time  goes  on. 
The  energy  of  grace  alone  can  make  a  soul  strong  in  age. 

*  Do  not  then  be  cast  down,  if  you,  though  not  yet  very 
aged,  feel  less  fervent  than  you  did  ten  years  ago — only  let  it 
be  a  call  on  you  to  seek  grace  to  supply  nature,  as  well  as  to 
overcome  it.  Put  yourself  more  fully  and  utterly  into  Mary's 
hands,  and  she  will  nurse  you,  and  bring  you  forward.  She 
will  watch  over  you  as  a  mother  over  a  sick  child.' 

To  Miss  Munro. 

'Aug.  24th,  1 87 1. 

'  It  quite  grieved  me  not  to  have  seen  you  again  after 
Friday.  I  wish  you  had  been  so  charitable  as  to  have  sent 
for  me  on  Saturday  or  Sunday. 

*  I  wish  you  would  not  be  a  self  tormentor.  But  who  can 
make  you  forget  yourself,  your  short-comings  and  your 
anxieties,  and  fix  your  thoughts  on  Him  Who  is  All-true, 
All-beautiful,  and  All-merciful,  but  He  Himself?  I  cannot 
do  more  than  pray  for  it,  and,  with  God's  grace,  I  will  say 
Mass  for  you  once  a  week  for  some  time. 

'  You  must  look  off  from  this  world,  from  the  world  in  the 
Church,  from  what  is  so  imperfect,  and  the  earthen  vessels  in 
which  grace  is  stored,  to  the  Fount  of  Grace  Himself,  and  beg 
Him  to  fill  you  with  His  own  Presence.  But  I  can  do  no 
more  than  say  Mass  for  you,  and  that  I  will.' 

To  THE  Same. 

'  The  Oratory  :  October  21,  1873. 

'  It  is  very  kind  in  you  to  write  to  me.  I  always  hear 
about  you  with  the  greatest  interest  and  anxiety,  I  know  with 
what  a  true  heart  you  desire  to  serve  God — and  that  what  you 
call  your  restlessness  is  only  the  consequence  of  that  religious 
desire. 


328  LIFE   OF   CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

'  Be  sure  that  many  others  besides  you  feel  that  sadness, 
that  years  pass  away  and  no  opening  comes  to  them  for 
serving  God.  Be  sure  that  I  can  sympathise  with  you, 
for  now  for  many  years  I  have  made  attempts  to  break 
through  the  obstacles  which  have  been  in  my  way,  but 
all  in  vain. 

'  One  must  submit  oneself  to  God's  loving  will — and  be 
quieted  by  faith  that  what  He  wills  for  us  is  best.  He  has  no 
need  of  us — He  only  asks  for  our  good  desires.' 

Though  constant  in  sympathy  he  could  rebuke  when  it 
was  necessary.  *  It  would  be  the  best  of  penances  for  you,'  he 
writes  to  one  friend,  '  to  bind  yourself  to  one  place  and  to  one 
object.  But  sick  people  always  dislike  that  remedy  which  is 
best  suited  to  their  case.  So  at  least  my  doctor  tells  me.' 
And  he  could  administer  a  gentle  snub — as  in  this  comment 
on  two  essays  by  intimate  lady  friends  who  with  some  com- 
placency sought  his  opinion  on  their  work — 'ladies  always 
write  with  ease  and  grace— and  such  are  the  characteristics 
of  your  and  A.  B.'s  papers.' 

His  advice  was  by  no  means  always  spiritual  advice. 
Here  is  a  letter  to  Miss  Holmes  on  a  projected  literary 
enterprise : 

*  As  to  writing  about  what  one  knows  and  what  one  does 
not,  e.g.  I  have  written  in  "  Loss  and  Gain  "  of  persons  and 
things  that  I  knew — but,  if  I  were  to  attempt  a  fashionable 
novel,  I  should  make  a  fool  of  myself,  because  I  do  not  know 
men  of  fashion,  and  should  have  to  draw  on  imagination  or 
on  books.  As  to  yourself  I  would  not  trust  you,  if  you 
attempted  to  describe  a  Common  Room,  or  a  Seminary,  or 
the  Chinese  court  at  Pekin  ;  but  I  think  you  capital  in  the 
sketch  of  persons  and  things  which  from  time  to  time  you 
have  written  to  me,  according  to  the  place  you  have  been  in. 
It  is  not  to  the  purpose  whether  they  are  correct  or  not,  or 
representations  of  fact,  (about  which  I  can  know  nothing) 
but  they  are  clear,  consistent,  and  persuasive,  as  pictures.  .  ,  . 
And  in  your  experience  of  fact,  I  include,  not  only  what  you 
have  seen  yourself,  but  what  you  have  on  good  authority 
(as  that  of  your  Father)  or  what  you  read  in  books,  if  you 
take  the  books  as  facts,  not  as  informants — thus  the  language 
of  a  book  of  a  certain  date  is  a  fact,  and  you  rely,  not 
on  its  evidence  or  testimony,  but  on  what  is  before  your 
eyes.  I  heartily  wish  you  would  set  about  a  series  ot 
stories,' 


LIFE  AT  THE   ORATORY  329 

To  both  Miss  Munro  and  Miss  Holmes  he  wrote  constantly 
— to  Miss  Holmes  for  thirty  years.  She  was  taken  seriously 
ill  in  1877  and  ordered  sea  air. 

'  I  am  shocked  at  the  account  you  give  of  yourself,' 
Newman  wrote  on  October  24.  '  This  morning,  St.  Raphael's 
day,  I  said  Mass  for  you,  begging  the  Archangel  to  convey 
you  to  Bournemouth,  whither  you  should  go  at  once.  ...  I 
won't  forget  you.' 

Miss  Holmes  rallied  for  a  time,  but  passed  away  some 
months  later. 

Newman  was  specially  careful  to  suit  his  words  to  the 
mind  or  mood  of  a  correspondent,  in  his  letters  to  those 
whose  belief  in  Christianity  or  even  Theism  was  in  danger 
or  actually  dying.  In  pla'  e  of  such  blows  of  a  controversial 
sledge-hammer  as  are  driven  home  by  Mr.  Gladstone  in  his 
letters,  we  find  considerations  suggested  most  tentatively,  as 
though  he  feared  lest  staking  too  much  on  an  argument  which 
might  not  prove  convincing  might  make  things  worse  instead 
of  better.  The  subtle  psychological  forces  at  work  in  the 
human  mind  were  never  forgotten.  Even  the  best  logic,  he 
saw,  would  not  do  its  work  when  the  mental  and  moral 
instrument  for  using  it  was  out  of  order.  In  one  instance  he 
strongly  advised  friends  who  were  anxious  to  bring  back  the 
faith  of  one  who  appeared  to  have  lost  it,  to  refrain  from  all 
argument  and  leave  the  subject  alone.  He  divined  that  a 
dispute  was  just  what  would  arouse  the  person  in  question 
to  bring  together  all  plausible  attacks  on  the  evidence  for 
religious  belief;  whereas  the  silent  experience  of  the  world 
and  of  life  would  tend  in  the  other  direction,  and  bring  home 
to  the  doubter  the  dreary  void  of  any  Weltanschauung  which 
did  not  take  account  of  religion. 

The  following  letter  is  a  fair  specimen  of  letters  addressed 
to  persons  in  doubt.  It  may  strike  those  who  are  more  con- 
fident controversialists  and  less  true  psychologists  than  he,  as 
appearing  to  show  comparatively  little  confidence  in  the  con- 
vincing force  of  the  recognised  arguments  for  religious  belief: 

'The  Oratory:  June  25th,    1S69. 

*  I  have  delayed  writing  to  you,  both  as  feeling  the  risk 
of  disappointing  and  disturbing  instead  of  aiding  you  by 
what  I  might  say — and  also  because  I  found  you  had  been  so 


330  LIFE   OF   CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

good  as  to  take  up  my  suggestion  as  regards  my  Oxford 
Sermons.  I  thought  they  might  for  a  while  speak  to  you 
instead  of  a  letter.  I  can  never  prophesy  what  will  be 
useful  to  a  given  individual  and  what  not.  As  to  my 
Sermons,  I  was  astonished  and  (as  you  may  suppose)  deeply 
gratified  by  a  stranger,  an  Anglican  Clergyman,  writing  to 
me  a  year  or  two  ago  to  say  that  reading  them  had  con- 
verted him  from  freethinking  opinions,  which  he  had  taken 
up  from  German  authors,  or  from  living  in  Germany.  I  do 
not  see  how  they  could  do  so — but  he  said  they  did — and  it 
was  that,  I  think,  which  made  me  fancy  it  was  worth  while 
to  recommend  them  to  you. 

'  You  must  begin  all  thought  about  religion  by  mastering 
what  is  the  fact,  that  anyhow  the  question  has  an  inherent, 
ineradicable  difficulty  in  it.  As  in  tuning  a  piano,  you  may 
throw  the  fault  here  or  there,  but  no  theory  can  anyone  take 
up  without  that  difficulty  remaining.  It  will  come  up  in 
one  shape  or  other.  If  we  say,  "  Well,  I  will  not  believe 
any  thing,"  there  is  a  difficulty  in  believing  nothing,  an 
intellectual  difficulty.  There  is  a  difficulty  in  doubting  ;  a 
difficulty  in  determining  there  is  no  truth  ;  in  saying  that 
there  is  a  truth,  but  that  no  one  can  find  it  out  ;  in  saying 
that  all  religious  opinions  are  true,  or  one  as  good  as  another  ; 
a  difficulty  in  saying  there  is  no  God  ;  that  there  is  a  God 
but  that  He  has  not  revealed  Himself  except  in  the  way 
of  nature  ;  and  there  is  doubtless  a  difficulty  in  Christianity. 
The  question  is,  whether  on  the  whole  our  reason  does  not  tell 
us  that  it  is  a  duty  to  accept  the  arguments  commonly  urged 
for  its  truth  as  sufficient,  and  a  duty  in  consequence  to  believe 
heartily  in  Scripture  and  the  Church. 

'  Another  thought  which  I  wish  to  put  before  you  is, 
whether  our  nature  does  not  tell  us  that  there  is  something 
which  has  more  intimate  relations  with  the  question  of  religion 
than  intellectual  exercises  have,  and  that  is  our  conscience. 
We  have  the  idea  of  duty — duty  suggests  something  or  some- 
one to  which  it  is  to  be  referred,  to  which  we  are  responsible. 
That  something  that  has  dues  upon  us  is  to  us  God.  I  will 
not  assume  it  is  a  personal  God,  or  that  it  is  more  than  a  law 
(though  of  course  I  hold  that  it  is  the  Living  Seeing  God), 
but  still  the  idea  of  duty,  and  the  terrible  anguish  of  con- 
science, and  the  irrepressible  distress  and  confusion  of  face 
which  the  transgression  of  what  we  believe  to  be  our  duty, 
causes  us,  all  this  is  an  intimation,  a  clear  evidence,  that  there 
is  something  nearer  to  religion  than  intellect  ;  and  that,  if 
there  is  a  way  of  finding  religious  truth,  it  lies,  not  in  exercises 


LIFE   AT   THE    ORATORY  331 

of  the  intellect,  but  close  on  the  side  of  duty,  of  conscience,  in 
the  observance  of  the  moral  law.  Now  all  this  may  seem 
a  truism,  and  many  an  intellectualist  will  say  that  he  grants 
it  freely.  But  1  think,  that,  when  dwelt  upon,  it  leads  to 
conclusions  which  would  both  surprise  and  annoy  him. 

'  Now  I  think  it  best  to  stop  here  for  the  present.  You 
must  not  suppose  that  I  am  denying  the  intellect  its  real  place 
in  the  discovery  of  truth, — but  it  must  ever  be  borne  in  mind 
that  its  exercise  mainly  consists  in  reasoning, — that  is,  in 
comparing  things,  classifying  them,  and  inferring.  It  ever 
needs  points  to  start  from,  first  principles,  and  these  it  does 
not  provide — but  it  can  no  more  move  one  step  without  these 
starting  points,  than  a  stick,  which  supports  a  man,  can  move 
without  the  man's  action.  In  physical  matters,  it  is  the  senses 
which  give  us  the  first  start — and  what  the  senses  give  is 
physical  fact — and  physical  facts  do  not  lie  on  the  surface 
of  things,  but  are  gained  with  pains  and  by  genius,  through 
experiment.  Thus  Newton,  or  Davy,  or  Franklin  ascertained 
those  physical  facts  which  have  made  their  names  famous. 
After  these  primary  facts  are  gained,  intellect  can  act ;  it  acts 
too  of  course  in  gaining  them  ;  but  they  must  be  gained  ;  it  is 
the  senses  which  enable  the  intellect  to  act,  by  giving  it  some- 
thing to  act  upon.  In  like  manner  we  have  to  ascertain  the 
starting  points  for  arriving  at  religious  truth.  The  intellect 
will  be  useful  in  gaining  them  and  after  gaining  them — but  to 
attempt  to  see  them  by  means  of  the  intellect  is  like  attempt- 
ing by  the  intellect  to  see  the  physical  facts  which  are  the 
basis  of  physical  exercises  of  the  intellect,  a  method  of  pro- 
ceeding which  was  the  very  mistake  of  the  Aristotelians  of  the 
middle  age,  who,  instead  of  what  Bacon  calls  "  interrogating 
nature "  for  facts,  reasoned  out  everything  by  syllogisms. 
To  gain  religious  starting  points,  we  must  in  a  parallel  way, 
interrogate  our  hearts,  and,  (since  it  is  a  personal  individual 
matter,)  our  own  hearts, — interrogate  our  own  consciences, 
interrogate,  I  will  say,  the  God  who  dwells  there. 

'  1  think  you  must  ask  the  God  of  conscience  to  enable 
you  to  do  your  duty  in  this  matter.  I  think  you  should,  with 
prayer  to  Him  for  help,  meditate  upon  the  gospels,  and  on 
St.  Paul's  second  epistle  to  the  Corinthians,  unless  the  trans- 
lation of  it  disturbs  you  ;  and  this  with  an  earnest  desire 
to  know  the  truth  and  a  sincere  intention  of  following  it.' 

Close  insight  into  the  needs  of  one  class  of  mind  is  also 
shown  in  the  following  words,  written  to  the  late  Canon 
McColl  shortly  after  the  Vatican  definition  : 


332  LIFE   OF   CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

'  Every  consideration  and  the  fullest  time  should  be  given 
to  those  who  have  to  make  up  their  minds  to  hold  an  article 
of  faith  which  is  new  to  them.  To  take  up  at  once  such  an 
article,  may  be  the  act  of  a  vigorous  faith,  but  it  may  also  be 
the  act  of  a  man  who  will  believe  anything  because  he  believes 
nothing,  and  is  ready  to  profess  whatever  his  ecclesiastical, 
that  is  his  political,  party  requires  of  him.  There  are  too 
many  high  ecclesiastics  in  Italy  and  England,  who  think 
that  to  believe  is  as  easy  as  to  obey — that  is,  they  talk  as  if 
they  did  not  know  what  an  act  of  faith  is. 

'  A  German  who  hesitates  may  have  more  of  the  real 
spirit  of  faith  than  an  Italian  who  swallows.  I  have  never 
myself  had  a  difficulty  about  the  Pope's  Infallibility,  but  that 
is  no  reason  why  I  should  forget  Luke  xvii.  i.' 

That  very  careful  psychological  observation  which  made 
Newman  so  successful  in  dealing  with  mental  troubles  made 
him  also  avoid  arguments  on  religious  questions  in  which  he 
saw  that  he  was  not  likely  to  succeed  or  do  good.  In  1869 
R.  H.  Hutton  conveyed  to  him  an  invitation  from  the 
founders  of  the  Metaphysical  Society  to  join  their  ranks. 
Its  members  were  to  meet  once  a  month  to  discuss  matters 
lying  at  the  foundation  of  religious  belief,  and  all  schools  of 
thought  were  represented,  from  Huxley  and  Tyndall  to 
Mr.  Gladstone  and  Dean  Church.  Its  Catholic  members  in- 
cluded Cardinal  Manning,  W.  G.  Ward,  and  J.  D.  Dalgairns. 
Newman  at  first  declined  on  the  plea  of  age,  but  the  invi- 
tation was  renewed  two  years  later.  He  then  wrote  as 
follows  to  Mr.  Hutton  : 

'The  Oratory:   March  22,   187 1. 

'  My  dear  Mr.  Hutton, —  I  assure  you  I  feel,  what  your 
letter  (without  meaning  itj  reminds  me  of,  that  I  am  doing 
very  little  good  now,  and  that  it  would  be  a  great  thing  if  I 
did  something  more,  to  give  me  a  right  to  live. 

'  Did  I  think  I  could  be  of  use  as  you  suppose  and 
propose,  I  would  keep  it  in  mind — but  you  don't  know  me. 
In  some  things  I  have  a  good  memory — but  for  books,  for 
doctrines,  for  views  and  arguments,  I  have  none.  Some  men 
have  their  learning  well  about  them  — others  have  minds  full 
of  resource.  Cardinal  Wiseman  was  such — he  had  always 
something  to  suggest— he  had  always  facts,  apt  and  striking, 
upon  his  memory,  whatever  the  subject.  I  am  not  a  ready 
man,  and  should  spoil  a  good  cause.    And  then,  I  am  so 


LIFE  AT  THE   ORATORY  333 

dreadfully  shy,  that  I  never  show  to  advantage,  and  feel  it 
myself  acutely  all  the  time. 

'  Pray  excuse  all  this  egotism,  but  my  conscience  so 
preaches  to  me  continually  that  I  am  doing  very  little  good, 
that  I  need  to  bring  before  me  what  the  state  of  the  case 
really  is,  and  to  try  to  gain  over  others  to  my  own  view  of  it, 
to  make  myself  easy,  when  hard  pressed.  Besides,  I  am  now 
past  seventy — and  I  never  move  about,  unless  I  am  in  some 
way  or  other  obliged. 

'  On  the  whole,  I  feel  deeply,  that  the  only  consequence 
which  would  follow  from  my  complying,  would  be,  for  you  to 
feel  how  much,  in  your  kindness,  you  had  overrated  me. 

'  Most  truly  yours, 

John  H.  Newman.'^ 

His  dislike  of  anything  approaching  to  intellectual  dis- 
play, his  very  deep  religious  feelings,  and  the  fact  that  he  had 
all  his  life  associated  almost  exclusively  with  religious  people, 
possibly  made  the  prospect  of  encountering  in  debate  free- 
thinkers and  agnostics,  for  the  first  time  when  he  was  seventy 
years  old,  not  inviting  to  him.  In  an  interesting  letter  written 
ten  years  later  to  an  Evangelical  correspondent — Mr.  G.  T. 
Edwards — who  had  sent  him  the  Journals  of  Caroline  Fox, 
he  thus  writes  : 

'  I  am  very  glad  to  have  the  volumes  you  were  so  good 
as  to  send  me — still,  interesting  as  I  could  not  help  finding 
them,  and  instructive,  I  have  a  natural  dislike  of  literary  and 
scientific  society  as  stick,  or  what  Hurrell  Froude,  (whom  I 
agreed  with  in  this)  used  to  call  "  the  aristocracy  of  talent "  ; 
and  for  this  reason  perhaps  I  am  not  quite  fair  to  the  remark- 
able and  beautiful  Life  which  you  sent  me.  I  suppose  it  is  a 
peculiarit)^  common  to  us  two  (H.  F.  and  me)  with  Keble  and 
Pusey  more  than  any  other  quality,  and  has,  as  much  as  any- 
thing else,  united  us  together  ;  and  accordingly  it  is  something 
of  a  wonder  to  me,  that  a  mind  so  religious  as  Miss  Fox's, 
should  feel  pleasure  in  meeting  men  who  either  disbelieved 
the  Divine  mission  or  had  no  love  for  the  person  of  One  she 
calls  "  her  God  and  her  Saviour."  ' 

'  Newman  never  quite  approved  of  the  Metaphysical  Society.  He  writes  thus 
to  Dean  Church  in  1876  : 

'  I  hear  that  you  and  the  Archbp.  of  York  (to  say  nothing  of  Cardinal 
Manning,  etc.)  are  going  to  let  Professor  Huxley  read  in  your  presence  an  argument 
in  refutation  of  our  Lord's  Resurrection.  How  can  this  possibly  come  under  the 
scope  of  a  Metaphysical  Society  ?  I  thank  my  stars  that,  when  asked  to  accept  the 
honour  of  belonging  to  it,  I  declined.  Aren't  you  in  a  false  position  ?  Perhaps  it 
is  a  ruse  of  the  Cardinal  to  bring  the  Professor  into  the  clutches  of  the  Inquisition.' 


334  LIFE   OF   CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

To  debate  at  the  Metaphysical  Society  with  a  mixed 
crowd  of  beh'evers  and  unbelievers  would  be  little  to  the 
taste  of  the  writer  of  these  words.  But  it  was  quite  otherwise 
as  to  helping  individual  inquirers. 

Father  Neville  tells  us,  in  his  Reminiscences,  of  Newman's 
sympathy  for  all  those,  of  whatever  creed,  concerning  whom 
he  felt  that  they  were  deeply  earnest  in  their  wish  for 
truth,  and  desired  to  do  their  duty  if  only  they  could  know 
it.  Towards  such  his  heart  went  out.  He  had  this  feeling 
very  especially  towards  Mr.  R.  H.  Hutton  himself,  although 
their  acquaintance  was  almost  entirely  confined  to  the 
correspondence  which  began  at  the  time  of  the  Kingsley 
controversy.  Here  is  a  Christmas  letter  to  Mr.  Hutton, 
written  at  the  end  of  1872  : 

•  The  Oratory  :  Dec.  29. 

'  My  dear  Mr.  Hutton, — I  have  nothing  to  write  to  you 
about,  but  I  am  led  at  this  season  to  send  you  the  religious 
greetings  and  good  wishes  which  it  suggests,  to  assure  you 
that,  though  I  seem  to  be  careless  about  those  who  desire 
to  have  more  light  than  they  have  in  regard  to  religious 
truths,  yet  I  do  really  sympathise  with  them  very  much,  and 
ever  have  them  in  mind. 

'  I  know  how  honestly  you  try  to  approve  yourself  to  God, 
and  this  is  a  claim  on  the  reverence  of  anyone  who  knows 
or  reads  you.  There  are  many  things  as  to  which  I  most 
seriously  differ  from  you,  but  I  believe  you  to  be  one  of  those 
to  whom  the  angels  on  Christmas  night  sent  greetings  as 
"hominibus  bonae  voluntatis,"  and  it  is  a  pleasure  and  a  duty 
for  all  who  would  be  their  companions  hereafter  to  follow 
their  pattern  of  comprehensive  charity  here.  I  cannot  feel 
so  hopefully  and  tenderly  to  many  of  those  whom  you 
defend  or  patronize  as  I  do  to  you — and  what  you  write 
perplexes  me  often — but  when  a  man  is  really  and  truly 
seeking  the  pearl  of  great  price,  how  can  one  help  joining 
oneself  in  heart  and  spirit  with  him  ? 

'  Most  truly  yours, 

John  H.  Newman.' 

He  corresponded  with  Mr.  Hutton  frequently  and  entered 
at  length  into  his  objections  to  Catholic  theology.  He  found 
in  some  cases  that  his  correspondent's  active  mind  was  alive 
to  difficulties  which  had  not  yet  been  adequately  considered 
in  the  Catholic  schools.     Thus,  to  reply  to  them  satisfactorily 


LIFE   AT   THE   ORATORY  335 

might  mean  to  go  beyond  what  was  as  yet  the  received 
Catholic  theology.  There  was  in  such  cases  a  difficulty  in 
responding  to  Hutton  with  a  frankness  equal  to  his  own. 
Newman  met  the  situation  by  telling  him  candidly  the  state 
of  the  case. 

'  What  the  genius  of  the  Church  cannot  bear,'  he  wrote, 
'  is  changes  in  thought  being  hurried,  abrupt,  violent — out  of 
tenderness  to  souls,  for  unlearned  and  narrow-minded  men 
get  unsettled  and  miserable.  The  great  thing  is  to  move  all 
together,  and  then  the  change,  as  geological  changes,  must  be 
very  slow.  Hence  we  come  to  be  accused  of  duplicity — I 
mean  the  cleverer  men  see  what  is  coming,  yet  from  charity 
to  others  (and  diffidence  in  themselves)  don't  speak  out' 

The  love  of  reality  which  made  R.  H.  Hutton  so  con- 
genial to  him,  revolted  against  sermonising  quite  as  much 
as  against  a  want  of  seriousness, 

'  I  agree  with  you,'  he  writes  to  a  friend  concerning  the 
book  of  a  popular  Catholic  writer,  '  it  is  a  thousand  pities 
that  a  clever  man  like  A.  B.  should  sermonise  in  the  way  he 
does.  We  are  reading  him  in  the  refectory,  and  he  always 
seems  in  the  same  place,  prancing  like  a  cavalry  soldier's 
horse,  without  advancing,  in  the  face  of  a  mob.  He  has  a 
noble  subject,  but  I  have  not  gained  two  ideas  from  his 
book.' 

Newman's  own  feeling  as  to  the  most  effective  way  of 
imparting  truth  by  writing  is  conveyed  in  the  following 
notes,  dated  1868,  on  the  writing  of  sermons  : 

'  I.  A  man  should  be  in  earnest,  by  which  I  mean  he 
should  write  not  for  the  sake  of  writing,  but  to  bring  out  his 
thoughts. 

'  2.  He  should  never  aim  at  being  eloquent. 

'  3.  He  should  keep  his  idea  in  view,  and  should  write 
sentences  over  and  over  again  till  he  has  expressed  his 
meaning  accurately,  forcibly,  and  in  few  words. 

'  4.  He  should  aim  at  being  understood  by  his  hearers 
or  readers. 

'  5.  He  should  use  words  which  are  likely  to  be  under- 
stood. Ornament  and  amplification  will  come  spontaneously 
in  due  time,  but  he  should  never  seek  them. 

'6.  He  must  creep  before  he  can  fly,  by  which  I  mean 
that  humility  which  is  a  great  Christian  virtue  has  a  place 
in  literary  composition. 


336  LIFE   OF   CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

'7.  He  who  is  ambitious  will  never  write  well,  but  he 
who  tries  to  say  simply  what  he  feels,  what  religion  demands, 
what  faith  teaches,  what  the  Gospel  promises,  will  be  eloquent 
without  intending  it,  and  will  write  better  English  than  if 
he  made  a  study  of  English  literature.' 

In  his  own  preaching,  the  simplicity  and  reality  he  in- 
culcated was  accompanied  by  an  intense  shyness  of  which  he 
was  quite  conscious.  '  From  a  child,'  he  writes  to  a  friend, 
'a  description  of  Ulysses'  eloquence  in  the  "  Iliad"  seized  my 
imagination  and  touched  my  heart.  "When  he  began  he 
looked  like  a  fool."  This  is  the  only  way  in  which  I  have 
done  anything.' 

I  have  spoken  of  Newman's  love  of  reality  and  sense  of 
reality.  The  word  '  real '  with  all  it  conveys  was  a  favourite 
one  with  him.  One  of  his  most  memorable  Oxford  Sermons 
dealt  with  '  unreal  words.'  One  of  his  most  arresting  dis- 
tinctions in  the  'Grammar  of  Assent'  is  between  'real  assent' 
and  'notional  assent'  A  keen  sense  of  the  concrete  and 
of  reality  shows  itself  in  other  traits  in  his  correspondence, 
besides  those  already  named.  His  piercingly  keen  senses 
made  the  sensible  world  intensely  real  to  him.  We  have  seen 
him  lay  down  his  fiddle  and  cry  out  with  joy  at  the  pleasure 
Beethoven's  quartets  were  giving  him.  Readers  of  '  Loss 
and  Gain  '  will  remember  how  scents  and  sounds  are  laden 
for  him  with  memories.  This  joy  of  sense,  especially  in 
his  early  youth,  had  a  full  measure  of  the  feeling  given  in 
Wordsworth's  ode  to  which  he  was  so  devoted  : 

'  There  was  a  time  when  meadow,  grove  and  stream. 
The  earth,  and  every  common  sight, 
To  me  did  seem 
Apparelled  in  celestial  light, 
The  glory  and  the  freshness  of  a  dream.' 

All  this  made  very  vivid  to  him  the  ideal  of  a  happy  life, 
made  up  of  the  pleasures  of  the  world  he  knew  by  experience. 
In  his  essay  on  'Discipline  and  Influence''  we  see  how  he 
could  let  his  thoughts  run  freely  on  this  ideal.  The  passage 
is  a  characteristic  one,  and  worth  quoting  here.  He  describes 
an  imaginary  friend  who  lives  in  absolute  contentment.    And 

'  Historical  Sketches,  vol.  iii. 


LIFE  AT  THE   ORATORY  337 

the  scene  he  imagines  for  this  perfect  life — so  we  know  from 
a  private  letter — is  the  house  at  Ham  of  which,  as  we  have 
seen  in  speaking  of  his  boyhood,  he  used  to  dream  as  a 
'  paradise  of  delight,'  where  the  '  Angel  faces  smile,  which  I 
have  loved  long  since,  and  lost  awhile.' 

'  My  friend  lives  in  a  spot  as  convenient  as  it  is  delightful. 
The  neighbouring  hamlet  is  the  first  station  out  of  London 
of  a  railroad  ;  while  not  above  a  quarter  of  a  mile  from  his 
boundary  wall,  flows  the  magnificent  river,  which  moves  to- 
wards the  metropolis  through  a  richness  of  grove  and  meadow 
of  its  own  creation. 

'  He  has  been  in  possession  of  the  very  perfection  of  earthly 
happiness.  ...  If  there  were  no  country  beyond  the  grave, 
it  would  be  our  wisdom  to  make  of  our  present  dwelling- 
place  as  much  as  ever  we  could  ;  and  this  would  be  done  by 
the  very  life  which  my  friend  has  chosen,  not  by  any  absurd 
excesses,  not  by  tumult,  dissipation,  excitement,  but  by  the 
"  moderate  and  rational  use  of  the  gifts  of  Providence."  ' 

'  Easy  circumstances,  books,  friends,  literary  connexions, 
the  fine  arts,  presents  from  abroad,  foreign  correspondents, 
handsome   appointments,   elegant  simplicity,   gravel    walks, 
lawns,  flower  beds,  trees    and  shrubberies,  summer   houses, 
strawberry  beds,  a  greenhouse,  a  wall  for  peaches,  "  hoc  erat 
in  votis  "  ; — nothing  out  of  the  way,  no  hot-houses,  graperies, 
pineries, — "  Persicos  odi,  puer,  apparatus," — no  mansions,  no 
parks,  no  deer,  no  preserves  ;  these  things  are  not  worth  the 
cost,  they  involve  the  bother  of  dependants,  they  interfere 
with  enjoyment.     One  or  two  faithful  servants,  who  last  on 
as  the  trees  do,  and  cannot  change  their  place  : — the  ancients 
had  slaves,  a  sort  of  dumb  waiter,  and  the  real  article  ;  alas ! 
they  are  impossible  now.     We  must  have  no  one  with  claims 
upon    us,  or   with    rights ;    no   incumbrances  ;    no    wife    and 
children  ;    they   would    hurt   our    dignity.     We    must   have 
acquaintance  within  reach,  yet  not  in   the  way  ;  ready,  not 
troublesome  or  intrusive.    We  must  have  something  of  name, 
or  of  rank,  or  of  ancestry,  or  of  past  official  life,  to  raise  us 
from    the  dead    level    of  mankind,  to   afford    food    for    the 
imagination    of  our    neighbours,  to  bring  us    from  time    to 
time  strange  visitors,  and  to  invest  our  home  with  mystery. 
In  consequence  we  shall  be  loyal  subjects,  good  conservatives, 
fond  of  old  times,  avcr.^e  to  change,  suspicious  of  novelt}', 
because  we  know  perfectly  when  we  are  well  off,  and  that 
in  our  case  "  progredi  est  regredi."     To  a  life  such  as  this, 
a  man  is  more  attached,  the  longer  he  lives  ;  and  he  would 
VOL.  II.  z 


338  LIFE    OF   CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

be  more  and  more  happy  in  it  too,  were  it  not  for  the 
memento  within  him,  that  books  and  gardens  do  not  make  a 
man  immortal  ;  that,  though  they  do  not  leave  him,  he  at 
least  must  leave  them,  all  but  "  the  hateful  cypresses,"  and 
must  go  where  the  only  book  is  the  book  of  doom,  and  the 
only  garden  the  Paradise  of  the  just.'  (See  Historical 
Sketches,  iii.  62.) 

These  last  words  effect  the  transition  from  one  side  of  his 
vision  of  human  life  to  the  other  and  deeper  side.  This  earth, 
keenly  alive  though  he  was  to  its  beauty  and  attractiveness, 
was  but  the  veil  of  appearances  which  hid  the  deeper  reality. 
The  '  hateful  cypresses  '  and  the  '  book  of  doom  '  recalled  the 
sterner  facts,  the  inevitable  prospect.  Human  souls  were  real. 
Human  suffering  was  real.  Duty  was  real.  Sin  was  real. 
Human  life  as  a  whole,  with  its  goal  which  each  must  find, 
the  career  which  each  will  make  or  mar,  was  overwhelmingly 
real  to  him.  '  The  greatness  and  the  littleness  of  man  ;  the 
curtain  hung  over  his  futurity ' — these  were  thoughts  which 
haunted  him.  Father  Neville  recollects  his  looking  with- 
out speaking,  for  many  minutes,  at  the  picture  of  a  dead 
friend,  and  then  saying,  as  one  overpowered  by  the  thought, 
'  And  now  he  has  gone  beyond  that  curtain.'  This  sense  of 
the  reality  and  solemnity  of  the  march  of  time  and  of  human 
life,  besides  making  him  deeply  religious,  gave  him  a  quite 
peculiar  feeling  as  to  his  own  past,  every  detail  of  which  was 
deeply  graven  on  his  memory.  The  homes  and  haunts  of 
early  days  were  sacred. 

Every  anniversary  was  also  sacred.  His  last  parting 
from  Littlemore,  which  has  been  told  in  these  pages,  was  but 
one  special  instance  of  his  clinging  love  of  his  old  homes. 
He  remembered  every  detail  of  the  houses  he  had  lived  in  as 
a  boy.  When  one  of  the  Oratorian  Fathers  was  staying  in 
Broad  Street  in  1854,  Newman  thus  wrote  to  him  : 

'  Strange  to  say,  though  don't  mention  it, — you  are  in  a 
house  I  have  known  for  near  20  years.  To  my  surprise  years 
ago  I  found  that  Isaac  Williams'  father  lived  on  the  opposite 
side  of  the  street,  but  No.  17  was  my  own  residence  in  London 
more  or  less  from  1808  to  1821.  Two  of  my  sisters  were 
born  there,  and  one  of  my  first  memories,  even  before  the 
first  of  these  events  in  1808,  is  my  admiring  the  borders  of 


LIFE   AT  THE   ORATORY  339 

the  paper  in  the  drawing  rooms.  I  have  not  seen  the  house 
since  the  month  of  October  1821  ;  but  of  course  every  part 
of  it  is  as  clearly  before  my  mind,  as  if  I  had  lived  in  it  ever 
since.' 

But  the  home  round  which  memories  gathered  thickest 
was  the  house  at  Ham,  above  referred  to,  at  which  he  lived 
up  to  the  age  of  six.  Two  letters  to  Henry  Wilberforce, 
who  was  staying  near  Richmond  in  1853,  are  filled  with 
these  early  memories : 

'I  have  seen  our  house  at  Ham  once  in  1813,  in  the 
holidays,  when  my  father,  brother,  and  myself  rode  there 
from  Norwood— and  the  gardener  gave  us  three  apricots — 
and  my  father  telling  me  to  choose,  I  took  the  largest,  a 
thing  which  still  distresses  me  whenever  I  think  of  it. 

'And  once  again  in  January  23,  1836,  when  I  walked  there 
with  Bowden  and  his  wife.  It  was  then,  I  believe,  a  school — 
and  the  fine  Trees,  which  were  upon  the  lawn,  were  cut 
down — a  large  plane,  a  dozen  of  tree  acacias,  with  rough 
barks,  as  high  as  the  plane — a  Spanish  chesnut,  a  larch.  A 
large  magnolia,  flowering  (in  June  I  think)  went  up  the  house, 
and  the  mower's  scythe,  cutting  the  lawn,  used  to  sound  so 
sweetly  as  I  lay  in  a  crib — in  a  front  room  at  top. 

'  To  find  it,  you  must  go  down  Ham  walk  with  your  back 
to  Lord  Dysart's  house  towards  Ham  common.  On  your 
right  hand,  some  way  down,  is  a  lane  called  "  Sandy  lane  " — 
our  house  lay  on  one  side  (the  further  side)  of  that  lane, 
which  formed  a  boundary,  first  of  the  lawn  and  shrubbery 
(which  tapered  almost  to  a  point,  between  the  lane  and  the 
paddock,)  and  then  of  the  kitchen  garden.  Hence  some 
people  got  over  the  wall,  and  stole  the  grapes.  There  was  no 
hot  house  but  a  small  green  house  in  the  kitchen  garden,  over 
which  was  a  poor  billiard  room.  There  I  learnt  to  play 
billiards,  having  never  seen  the  game  played  since. 

'I  left  the  place  in  September  1807.  I  recollect  the 
morning  we  left ; — and  taking  leave  of  it.  My  mother,  my 
brother    Charles,  Harriet,  and    I    in    the   carriage — sfoine  to 

^  <^  c>  <y 

Brighton — with  my  father's  horses  as  far  as  Ewell  (Pis 
there  such  a  place  ?)  and  then  posting. 

'  How  odd  one's  memory  is  !  I  could  tell  you,  I  suppose, 
a  hundred  tinics  as  much  about   Ham  .  .  . 

'I  will  tell  you  an  odd  thing  about  memory.  Lately  (since 
my  aunt's  death)  the  Bible  I  read  at  Fulham  when  a  child 
was  sent  me  at  my  wish.  I  looked  over  the  pictures,  and 
when  I  came  to  the  Angel  inflicting  the  pestilence  on   David 


340  LIFE   OF   CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

and  his  people,  I  recollected  I  used  to  say  "  That's  like 
Mr.  Owen."  This  must  have  been  dormant  46  years  in  my 
mind.' 

A  few  days  later,  on  July  17,  he  adds  a  few  more  lines 
of  reminiscence : 

'  Our  grounds  went  doivn  to  the  long  Ham  walk  of  double 
elms.  And  the  house /«(:^^  a  road  which  led  down  (I  think) 
to  the  water — with  gentlemen's  houses  on  each  side.  There 
was  Mr.  Bradley's  on  one  side,  and  Lady  Parker  (I  think) — 
(she  had  a  macaw — )  on  the  other.  Have  they  covered  the 
whole  territory  with  villas  ? 

'  I  lost  my  sister  this  day  year.' 

He  visited  the  house  again  in  1861,  and  the  visit  has 
been  narrated  in  this  work.  By  a  curious  lapse  of  memory 
he  said,  in  writing  of  this  occasion,  '  I  have  never  seen  the 
house  since  September  1807.'  ^ 

Let  us  before  leaving  these  memories  quote  from  the 
essay  on  '  Discipline  and  Influence  '  Newman's  description  of 
the  house  itself: 

'  It  is  an  old-fashioned  place,'  he  writes  ;  '  the  house  may  be 
of  the  date  of  George  the  Second;  a  square  hall  in  the  middle, 
and  in  the  centre  of  it  a  pillar,  and  rooms  all  round.  The 
servants'  rooms  and  offices  run  off  on  the  right ;  a  rookery 
covers  the  left  flank,  and  the  drawing-room  opens  upon  the 

lawn. 

'There  a  large  plane  tree,  with  its  massive  branches,  which 
whilome  sustained  a  swing,  when  there  were  children  on  that 
lawn,  blithely  to  undergo  an  exercise  of  the  head,  at  the  very 
thought  of  which  the  grown  man  sickens.  Three  formal 
terraces  gradually  conduct  down  to  one  of  the  majestic 
avenues,'  (belonging  to  the  neighbouring  park  of  a  nobleman) 
'  the  second  and  third,  intersected  by  grass  walks,  constitute 
the  kitchen  garden.  As  a  boy,  I  used  to  stare  at  the  mag- 
nificent cauliflowers  and  large  apricots  which  it  furnished  for 
the  table  ;  and  how  difficult  it  was  to  leave  off,  when  once 
one  got  among  the  gooseberry  bushes  in  the  idle  morning  1 ' 

In  later  years  especially  Newman  had  a  very  tender 
recollection  of  the  years  spent  in  the  Anglican  Communion, 
and  he  took  himself  to  task  on  this  subject  in  an  interest- 
ing memorandum  dated  November  1877. 

'  See  Vol.  I.  p.  607. 


I 


LIFE   AT   THE    ORATORY  341 

'  Do  you  love,  my  dear  Self,  or  don't  you,  your  active 
abidance  time  past  in  the  Church  of  England  ?  E.g.  you  have 
a  photograph  of  Trinity  Chapel  before  your  eyes  daily,  and 
you  love  to  look  at  it.  Yes — and  it  is  in  a  great  measure 
an  abstraction.  It  is  not  the  Church  of  England  that  I  love 
— but  it  is  that  very  assemblage,  in  its  individuals  concrete, 
which  I  remember  so  well — the  times  and  places — the  scenes, 
occurrences — my  own  thoughts,  feelings  and  acts.  I  look  at 
that  communion  table,  and  recollect  with  what  feelings  I 
went  up  to  it  in  November  18 17  for  my  first  communion — 
how  I  was  in  mourning  for  the  Princess  Charlotte,  and  had 
silk  black  gloves — and  the  glove  would  not  come  off  when  I 
had  to  receive  the  Bread,  and  I  had  to  tear  it  off  and  spoil  it 
in  my  flurry.  But  the  Church  of  England,  as  such,  does  not 
come  into  my  tender  memories.' 

Of  his  unfailing  recollection  of  the  incidents  in  his  past 
life  the  letters  again  and  again  remind  us. 

'  What  a  wonderful  thing  time  is,'  he  writes  to  Miss  Giberne 
on  May  17,  1867,  'and  life  is  every  year  more  wonderful. 
The  past  is  ever  present — and  life  is  at  once  nothing  at  all, 
and  all  in  all.' 

He  remembered  the  anniversaries  of  the  chief  events  in 
his  life,  and  of  the  deaths,  not  only  of  friends,  but  often  of  ac- 
quaintances. This  memory  grew  in  its  significance  for  him- 
self as  life  advanced,  as  anniversaries  of  deaths  multiplied,  and 
as  he  felt  his  own  time  drawing  nearer.  His  own  birthday 
became  to  him  a  solemn  reminder.  '  Birthdays  as  they  come,' 
he  wrote  to  the  same  correspondent  in  1867,  'are  awful 
things  now,  as  minute  guns  by  night'  On  February  26, 
1 87 1,  we  find  the  following  passage  in  another  letter  to  Henry 
Wilberforce : 

'  Thank  you  for  your  affectionate  greetings.  I  said  Mass 
for  you  and  yours,  living  and  departed,  on  the  24th.  Around 
my  birthday  are  grouped  the  deaths  of  many  whom  I  have 
known  and  loved.  This  year  two  on  the  same  day — Lady 
Rogers  and  Mrs.  Stewart  on  the  i6th.  Besides  I  have  the 
1 2th,  13th,  14th,  15th,  19th,  2 1st,  22nd,  23rd,  24th,  25th, 
28th,  29th, — and,  four  times,  two  on  the  same  day.  I  have 
no  such  galaxy  in  any  other  part  of  the  year.  1  wonder  what 
day  I  shall  die  on — one  passes  year  by  year  over  one's  death 
day,  as  one  might  pass  over  one's  grave. ' 


342  LIFE    OF   CARDINAL    NEWMAN 

His  readiness  to  see  the  hand  of  God  in  the  world  and  in 
the  events  of  his  own  Hfe  is  often  attested  in  his  letters  and 
private  memoranda.  We  have  already  seen  his  belief  in  the 
Holy  House  of  Loreto.  It  must  of  course  be  remembered 
that  at  the  date  when  he  believed  in  it  the  positive  evidence 
against  its  claim  had  not  yet  been  formulated.  Still  his  belief 
attests  at  all  events  his  readiness  to  accept  such  traditions  in 
the  absence  of  positive  disproof.  He  was  eager  to  verify  the 
report,  when  Henry  Wilberforce  was  ill,  that  an  improvement 
had  set  in  after  he  received  the  Pope's  blessing.  The  *  Dream 
of  Gerontius'  shows  how  real  to  him  was  the  world  beyond 
the  veil.  And  his  deep  realisation  of  that  other  world  made 
him  ready  to  see  its  influence  at  work  on  earth.  Thus  he  was 
ready  of  belief  as  to  marvellous  occurrences.  Merely  inade- 
quate evidence  did  not  in  such  cases  prevent  belief  with  him, 
for  he  regarded  the  presumption  afforded  by  the  facts  of 
Christianity  as  giving  a  certain  antecedent  probability  to 
alleged  providential  occurrences. 

On  the  other  hand,  he  was  careful  to  avoid  the  confusion 
of  thought  which  would  arise  from  claiming  for  such  alleged 
occurrences  evidential  value.  He  did  not  draw  a  hard-and- 
fast  line  between  interference  with  the  laws  of  nature  and 
God's  general  providence.  Such  laws  were  for  him  God's 
general  rules  of  action,  and  might  be  susceptible  of  direction 
much  as  the  workings  of  the  human  organism  are  affected  by 
the  mind  and  the  will,  without  any  process  which  could  be 
termed  the  violation  of  natural  law. 

That  Providence  versus  blind  necessity  is  the  primary 
issue,  that,  far  from  the  idea  of  fixed  laws  being  the  modern 
product  of  '  exact  thought '  and  a  supersession  of  the  anti- 
quated idea  of  Providence,  the  two  conceptions  have  always 
been  rivals,  entertained  by  opposite  schools,  is  a  view  which 
runs  through  several  of  Cardinal  Newman's  unpublished 
memoranda  on  religious  philosophy. 

In  a  memorandum  dated  September  13,  1861,  for  example, 
he  writes  thus  in  reference  to  the  writings  of  Mr.  Darwin  and 
Mr.  Buckle  : 

'  To  my  mind  it  is  wonderful  that  able  men  should  take 
for  granted  that  the  notion  of  fixed  laws  is  a  new  idea 
of  modern   times   which    is   superseding,  and   to  supersede 


LIFE   AT   THE   ORATORY  343 

the  old  idea  of  a  Providence.  .  .  .  Why,  it  is  the  old  idea 
of  Fate  or  Destiny  which  we  find  in  Homer.  It  is  no  new 
and  untried  idea,  but  it  is  the  old  antagonist  of  the  idea  of 
Providence.  Between  the  philosophies  of  Providence  and 
Fate  there  has  been  a  contest  from  the  beginning.  Fate 
may  have  new  and  better  arguments  now,  but  Providence 
has  been  able  to  stand  against  it  for  3000  years,  and 
there  is  no  reason  why  it  should  not  keep  its  ground 
still,  though  the  philosophy  of  Fate  may  still  have 
followers.' 

And  the  relation  of  miracle  itself  to  the  ordinary  course  of 
nature,  its  respect,  so  to  say,  for  the  laws  it  partly  supersedes, 
is  referred  to  in  a  memorandum  dated  September  3,  1865  : 

'  Some  miracles,  as  the  raising  of  the  dead,  certainly  are 
not  a  continuation  or  augmentation  of  natural  processes,  but 
most  are :  e.g.  there  is  said  to  be  something  like  manna  in 
the  desert  ordinarily,  and  the  sacred  narrative  mentions  a 
zvind  as  blowing  up  the  waters  of  the  Red  Sea — and  so  in 
numerous  other  miracles.  It  is  a  confirmation  of  this  to  look 
at  Gibbon's  "  Five  Causes  of  Christianity."  We  do  not  deny 
them,  but  only  say  they  are  not  sufficient — i.e.  the  spread 
of  Christianity  was  something  more  than  natural' 

Such  a  philosophy  led  him  to  have  no  antecedent 
difficulty  in  often  seeing  the  hand  of  Providence  in  the  history 
of  the  world  and  of  human  life.  And  he  never  forgot  that 
readiness  of  belief  was  enjoined  in  the  Gospels. 

The  instances  in  which  beliefs  were  to  him  difficult  which 
to  some  others  were  easy,  were  such  as  involved  actual  contra- 
diction to  historical  conclusions,  certain  or  highly  probable — a 
contradiction  to  which  less  clear-sighted  minds  were  not  alive. 
Instances  of  this  difficulty  multiplied  as  time  went  on,  and  he 
found  many  theologians  insufficiently  alive  to  it . 

Occasionally  in  his  thoughts  concerning  the  Providence 
of  God  we  find  traces  still  surviving— '  shreds  and  tatters'  he 
called  them — of  his  early  Calvinism.  We  have  already 
recorded  some  instances  of  his  curious  sense  of  the  place  of 
the  number  seven  in  the  scheme  of  Providence.  He  limited 
his  Irish  Rectorship  to  seven  years  :  he  believed  seven  years 
to  be  the  normal  term  of  his  intimate  friendships.  A  letter  of 
1 87 1  to  the  Mother  Prioress  of  the  Dominicans  shows  him  half 
thinking  that  the  mystic  number  enters  into  the  computation 


344  LIFE   OF   CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

of  the  elect  in  each  generation.    The  year  was  one  in  which  the       ■ 
CathoHc  world  was  heavy  at  heart — the  Holy  Father  robbed 
of  his  territory,  France  at  the  mercy  of  the  red  republicans  of 
the  Commune.      His  letter  is  dated  December  28,  1871  : 

'It  is  a  great  relief  to  think  how  many  quiet  religious 
houses  there  are  up  and  down  Christendom,  how  many  pious 
families  in  a  time  like  this.  This  is  what  I  say  and  feel  in 
answer  to  your  lament,  true  as  it  is.  Recollect  the  "  Seven 
thousand  in  Israel."  I  am  disposed  to  think  there  are  always 
just  7000,  and  never  more.  Is  the  number  of  the  elect  greater 
in  one  age  than  in  another?  Of  course  the  sight  of  triumphant 
injustice,  as  at  Rome  now,  is  most  painful — but  to  me  the 
most  sad  and  painful  sight  of  all  just  now  is  the  sight  of  that 
nation,  the  eldest  born  of  the  Church,  and  the  special  staff  on 
which  the  Holy  Father  relied,  chastised  for  its  sins,  and  giving 
no  signs  whatever  of  repentance,  nay,  no  signs  of  acknowledg- 
ing an  Almighty  God  and  Judge.  Yet  after  all,  though  bold 
infidelity  is  so  shocking,  is  it  worse  than  the  hypocritical 
profession,  the  secret  unbelief  and  sin,  which  gives  tokens  of 
its  prevalence,  widely  and  deeply,  in  prosperous  times  in  the 
Church  ? 

'  Thus  we  don't  know  what  is  best — and  can  only  say, 
"  Thy  Kingdom  come — Thy  will  be  done."  ' 

Another  mystic  thought  as  to  the  destiny  of  Christendom, 
which  the  events  of  the  time  brought  to  his  mind,  is  contained 
in  the  following  letter  written  to  the  same  correspondent  in 
the  same  year  : 

'  It  is  awful  to  be  rejoicing  when  better  Catholics  than  we 
are,  are  in  such  misery.  Such  events  as  are  taking  place  in 
France  have  some  deep  spiritual  meaning,  if  we  knew  how 
to  interpret  them.  When,  since  the  world  was,  was  a  city 
destroyed  by  its  own  people  ?  I  have  ofte7i  thought  of  and 
repeated  a  remark  made  years  ago  by  poor  Mr.  Capes 
which  seems  now  to  have  a  beginning  of  fulfilment.  He 
asked  who  are  to  be  the  Goths  and  Vandals  who  are  to 
destroy  modern  civilization,  since  we  now  know  all  the 
corners  of  the  earth,  and  know  that  the  storehouse  of  the 
Northern  nations  is  expended  ?  He  answered  himself  thus  : 
— "  The  lowest  class,  which  is  most  numerous,  and  is  infidel, 
will  rise  up  from  the  depths  of  the  modern  cities,  and  will  be 
the  new  scourges  of  God."  This  great  prophecy,  as  it  may 
be  called,  is  first  fulfilled  in  Paris — our  turn  may  come  a 
century  hence.' 


LIFE   AT   THE    ORATORY  345 

He  loved  to  think  of  the  Saints  and  Angels  as  near  him. 
He  would  write  familiarly  of  being  in  favour  or  out  of 
favour  with  St.  Philip.  When  his  work  for  the  Oratory, 
which  was  constant  and  energetic,  brought  him  at  times 
into  collision  with  the  world,  he  wrote  to  Ambrose  St.  John 
in  a  fit  of  extreme  depression,  yet  half-humorously  disposed 
to  remonstrate  with  St.  Philip,  much  as  the  Italian  peasants 
scold  the  saints  who  will  not  give  them  what  they  want. 

'The  Oratory:  June  13,   1858. 

'  I  do  not  see  your  logic  when  you  say,  that,  "  though  I 
croak,  I  come  up  to  the  scratch  after  all."  To  me  it  seems 
as  inconsecutive  to  say  so  as  if  you  said  that,  though  I  could 
not  sleep  at  night,  I  ate  my  breakfast  heartily  in  the  morning. 
How  are  the  two  things  inconsistent  with  each  other  ?  To  let 
out  one's  sorrow  is  a  great  relief,  and  I  don't  think  an 
unlawful  one.  Nor  do  I  speak  to  the  whole  world,  but 
to  you,  Stanislas,  or  Henry.  Job  too  had  three  friends,  and 
to  them  he  let  out.  Yet  he  was  the  most  patient  of  men. 
I  think  you  don't  discriminate  between  complaining  and 
realizing.  What  is  so  common  in  the  Psalms  and  in 
Jeremias,  is  the  sentiment  "Just  art  Thou,  O  Lord,  yet  will 
I  plead  with  Thee  ? "  Yet  for  myself,  I  know  too  well 
how  infinitely  more  I  have  than  my  deserts  from  the  Giver 
of  all  good,  to  have  any  even  temptation  to  complain. 
But  the  case  is  different  when  I  think  of  St.  Philip  ;  then  I 
argue  thus : — 

' "  There  is  just  one  virtue  which  he  asks  for,  detachment, 
which  at  the  same  time  he  prevents  me  having.  There  is 
just  one  thing  which  hinders  me  being  detached,  and  that 
is,  that  1  have  made  myself  his  servant.  What  wish 
have  I  for  life,  or  for  success  of  any  kind,  except  so 
far  as  and  because  I  have  this  his  congregation  on  my 
hands?  He  it  is  who  has  implicated  me  in  the  world,  in  a 
way  in  which  I  never  was  before,  or  at  least  never  since 
my  mother  died  and  my  sisters  married.  For  St.  Philip's 
sake  I  have  given  up  my  liberty,  and  have,  as  far  as  the 
temptation  and  trial  of  anxiety  goes,  become  as  secular 
almost  as  if  I  had  married.  The  one  thing  I  ask  of  him 
is  to  shield  me  from  the  extreme  force  of  this  trial  ;  and  the 
only  explanation  I  can  suggest  to  myself  why  he  does  not 
do  so  is  that  I  have  in  some  way  or  other  greatly  offended 
him.  And,  when  I  cry  out  to  you,  it  is  not  in  complaint, 
but  as  signifying  inarticulately  feelings  which  are  too  deep 


346  LIFE    OF   CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

for  words.  Please  God,  and  I  hope  not  from  pride,  I  will  be 
faithful  to  St.  Philip,  and  then  God  will  reward  me,  though 
St.  Philip  does  not.  And  I  will  therefore  bottle  up  my 
thoughts  and  fancy  St.  Philip  saying  to  me  what  a  French 
conduct eitr  once  did,  when  I  was  looking  after  the  safety  of 
my  luggage.  "  It  is  my  business,  not  yours."  Obmutui  et 
non  aperui  os  meum,  quoniam  tu  fecisti.' 
'  The  words  of  Job  are  ended.' 

More  cheerful  than  his  complaints  against  St.  Philip  was 
his  gratitude,  many  years  later,  to  his  Guardian  Angel  when 
Father  Walford  told  him  in  1872  that  part  of  the  'Grammar 
of  Assent'  had  been  of  special  help  to  the  Jesuit  novices  to 
whom  he  lectured,  and  assured  him  of  the  prayers  that  were 
offered  for  its  author  : 

'  I  am  astonished  and  highly  pleased,'  he  writes,  '  to  find 
you  have  been  able  to  use  in  teaching  what  I  have  said  in 
the  Grammar  Chapter,  of  which  I  sent  you  part.  It  is  a 
great  encouragement  to  me.  I  hope  to  ask  your  acceptance 
of  the  Volume  when  republished,  which  will  be,  I  suppose, 
before  Midsummer.     If  I  forget,  will  you  jog  my  memory? 

'  Also  I  am  highly  grateful  to  you  for  your  prayers,  and 
think  myself  very  lucky  to  have  gained  them  by  anything 
I  have  written.  It  is  all  my  Guardian  Angel's  doing,  who 
I  always  think  is  the  best  Angel  any  man  ever  had.' 

This  last  letter  shows  incidentally  the  grateful  thankful- 
ness for  kind  words  which  was  the  correlative  to  his  intense 
sensitiveness  to  being  misunderstood.  As  years  went  on, 
and  critics  became  kinder  and  kinder,  occasions  for  such 
thanks  multiplied.  On  February  9,  1869,  he  writes  to  the 
Rev.  E.  T.  Vaughan,  in  reply  to  a  letter  of  thanks  for  the 
benefit  his  correspondent  had  gained  from  the  Oxford 
Sermons  : 

'  Time  was  when,  whether  from  my  own  fault  or  the  fault 
of  circumstances,  even  friends  were  hard  upon  me — but  now 
even  strangers  to  me  personally  are  considerate  and  friendly  ; 
and,  though  I  wish  and  trust  to  be  influenced  by  the  prospect 
of  a  higher  praise  or  blame  than  any  which  comes  from  an 
earthly  source,  yet  I  may  allowably  take  the  approbation  of 
honest  and  good  men  as  a  mercy  sent  me  from  above,  and 
beg  Him  from  whom  it  is  sent  to  reward  them  abundantly 
for  their  generosity.' 


LIFE   AT   THE   ORATORY  347 

As  late  as  1877,  in  a  letter  to  Father  Coleridge,  we  find  at 
once  the  smart  of  past  censure  remaining,  and  gratitude  for 
present  kindness  fresh  and  keen  : 

'  1  write  to  thank  you  for  the  favourable  critique,  which 
you  have  admitted  in  the  Month,  of  my  Preface  to  the  Via 
Media.  And  I  am  pleased  that  you  could  admit  it.  I  mean, 
I  have  been  so  bullied  all  through  my  life  for  what  I  have 
written,  that  I  never  publish  without  forebodings  of  evil. 

'And,  though  I  know  that,  besides  the  necessary  differences 
of  opinion,  which  ever  will  be  between  man  and  man,  there 
always  must  be  that  in  what  I  write  which  really  deserves 
criticism,  yet  I  am  more  pleased  when  people  are  kind  to 
me  than  when  they  are  just' 

One  further  trait  I  will  mention  visible  in  many  of  the 
letters — the  note  of  wisdom,  often  worldly  wisdom,  which 
might  come  from  the  mouth  of  a  Polonius.  This  quality,  like 
some  others,  can  only  be  duly  appreciated  by  reading  much 
of  his  correspondence. 

But  I  set  down  here  one  specimen.  Writing  to  a  friend 
about  a  dispute  in  which  he  believed  that  he,  as  Superior  of 
the  Oratory,  had  acted  with  the  right  firmness  and  severity, 
though  his  action  had  been  angrily  challenged,  he  strongly 
urged  his  own  friends  against  talking  of  the  subject  or  plead- 
ing his  cause.  His  opponents  had  spoken  too  freely  and 
generally  of  the  matter,  and  Newman  judged  true  wisdom  to 
lie  in  absolute  silence  on  his  side.  He  gives  the  following 
reasons  in  writing  to  a  friend  : 

*  I  have  a  very  strong  repugnance  to  talking  on  the  subject 
to  any  one.  If  you  speak  to  A.  B.,  he  tells  another — and 
that  other,  another.  It  is  useless  to  say  he  won't — he  will. 
He  will  tell  by  the  same  light  by  which  he  was  told.  Then 
the  whole  affair  is  thrown  upon  the  judgment  of  society. 
Everyone  thinks  he  has  a  right  to  judge,  because  you  have 
put  the  matter  before  him — and,  though  he  can  know  but 
part  of  the  facts,  he  docs  not  give  up  his  right.  Then  you 
have  two  parties — or  you  have  every  one  against  you,  as  the 
case  may  be.  It  is  infra  di^.  for  me  to  plead  my  cause.  If 
anyone  believes  me  to  have  acted  tyrannically,  it  is  his  look 
out,  not  mine.  What  is  it  to  me  what  people  think  of 
me  ?  I  have  ever  acted  on  this  plan,  I  never  got  the  worst 
of  it.  I  lay  claim  to  no  supernatural  motive  ;  it  is  the  most 
evident  wisdom.     I  have  never  defended  myself  through  life. 


348  LIFE   OF   CARDINAL    NEWMAN 

I  have  been  called  all  manner  of  names,  but  those  things 
don't  last.  Such  dirt  does  not  stick.  Nor  am  I  allowing 
scandal  to  remain,  by  not  speaking;  scandal  must  be 
somewhere ....  Again,  any  one  who  defends  himself,  puts 
himself  in  the  wrong.  Sz  on  s'excuse^  on  s'accuse.  (Excuse 
my  bad  French.) '  ^ 

It  is  hard  now  to  represent  adequately  the  extraordinary 
personal  charm  which  so  many  of  his  contemporaries  felt  in 
John  Henry  Newman.  The  letters  convey  much  of  it,  but 
not  all.  Yet  the  tradition  of  this  charm  is  a  fact  which  must 
be  set  down  in  his  biography.  It  was  a  charm  felt  by 
intellectual  minds  and  even  sceptical  minds,  and  by  simple 
and  practical  men.  Blanco  White,  Mark  Pattison,  Henry 
Wilberforce,  Frederick  Rogers,  R.  W.  Church,  and  Ambrose 
St.  John  were  all  among  his  most  intimate  friends.  The 
almost  unique  combination  of  tenderness,  brilliancy,  refine- 
ment, wide  sympathy,  and  holiness  doubtless  went  for 
much.  He  had  none  of  the  repellent  qualities  which  some- 
times make  asceticism  forbidding.  He  had  an  ample 
allowance  of  those  human  sympathies  which  are  popularly 
contrasted  with  asceticism.  Again,  he  seemed  able  to  love 
each  friend  with  a  peculiarly  close  sympathy  for  his  mind  and 
character  and  thoughtfulness  for  the  circumstances  of  his  life. 
The  present  writer's  father— never  one  of  the  most  intimate 
of  the  circle  which  surrounded  Newman  at  Oxford — used  to 
say  that  his  heart  would  beat  as  he  heard  Newman's  step  on 
the  staircase.  His  keen  humour,  his  winning  sweetness,  his 
occasional  wilfulness,  his  resentments  and  anger,  all  showed 
him  intensely  alive,  and  his  friends  loved  his  very  faults  as 
one  may  love  those  of  a  fascinating  woman ;  at  the  same  time 
many  of  them  revered  him  almost  as  a  prophet.  Only  a  year 
before  his  death,  after  nearly  twenty  years  of  misunder- 
standings and  estrangement,  W.  G.  Ward  told  the  present 

'  I  may  add  the  following  instance  of  balanced  judgment  from  a  letter  of 
March  1855  to  flenry  Wilberforce  : 

'  I  hope  you  will  think  twice  before  you  attack  the  French  Government  [in 
the  Weekly  Register]  for  their  Galilean  mode  of  admitting  the  Pope's  Brief. 
Ultramontane  as  I  am,  I  do  not  see  how  they  could  avoid  doing  so,  unless  they 
wished  the  question  to  go  by  default.  The  Tope  every  year  protests,  I  believe, 
against  the  King  of  Naples  not  sending  him  a  mule,  or  an  ambassador  to  ride  into 
St.  Peter's  on  a  mule,  or  some  silver  pence,  or  something  or  other  ;  he  could  not 
do  otherwise  till  the  matter  is  finally  arranged,  yet  he  may  be  good  friends  with 
Naples  for  all  that.' 


LIFE   AT  THE   ORATORY  349 

biographer  of  a  dream  he  had  had — how  he  found  himself  at 
a  dinner  party  next  to  a  veiled  lady,  who  charmed  him  more 
and  more  as  they  talked.  At  last  he  exclaimed,  '  I  have 
never  felt  such  charm  in  any  conversation  since  I  used  to  talk 
with  John  Henry  Newman,  at  Oxford.'  '  I  am  John  Henry 
Newman,'  the  lady  replied,  and  raising  her  veil  showed  the 
well-known  face. 

A  very  human  and  attractive  side  was  visible  in  his  love 
for  music,  of  which  I  have  already  spoken,  and  a  few  words 
may  here  be  added  on  this  subject. 

From  the  days  when  he  played  the  violin  as  a  young  boy, 
his  brother  Frank  playing  the  bass,  down  to  the  Littlemore 
period  when  he  played  in  company  with  Frederick  Bowles 
and  Walker,  string  quartets  and  trios  were  his  favourite 
recreation.  Mr.  Mozley,  in  his  'Reminiscences  of  the  Oxford 
Movement,'  thus  describes  his  playing  of  Beethoven  with 
Blanco  White  in  1826:  '  Most  interesting  was  it  to  contrast 
Blanco  White's  excited  and  indeed  agitated  countenance  with 
Newman's  Sphinx-like  immobility,  as  the  latter  drew  long 
rich  notes  with  a  steady  hand.'  When  the  gift  of  a  violin 
from  Rogers  and  Church  in  1864  made  him  renew  acquaint- 
ance with  his  old  love  after  a  long  interval,  the  manner  of  his 
playing  was  somewhat  different.  '  Sphinx-like  immobility,' 
writes  Mr.  Edward  Bellasis,^  '  had  made  way  for  an  ever  vary- 
ing expression  upon  his  face  as  strains  alternated  between 
grave  and  gay.  Producing  his  violin  from  an  old  green  baize 
bag,  bending  forward,  and  holding  it  against  his  chest,  instead 
of  under  the  chin  in  the  modern  fashion,  most  particular 
about  his  instrument  being  in  perfect  tune,  in  execution 
awkward  yet  vigorous,  painstaking  rather  than  brilliant,  he 
would  often  attend  the  Oratory  School  Sunday  practices 
between  two  and  four  of  an  afternoon.  Father  Ryder  and 
Father  Norris  sometimes  coming  to  play  also.' 

When  Canon  McNeile,  the  Liverpool  anti-Popery  speaker, 
challenged  him  to  a  public  dispute,  Newman  replied  that  he 
was  no  public  speaker,  but  that  he  was  quite  ready  for  an 
encounter  it  Mr.  McNeile  would  open  the  meeting  by  making 
a  speech,  and  he  himself  might  respond  with  a  tune  on  the 

'   Cardinal  Newman  as  a  Musician,  by  Edward  Bellasis.      London  :  Kegan 
Paul,   1892. 


350  LIFE    OF   CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

violin.     The  public  would  then  be  able  to  judge  which  was 
the  better  man. 

His  favourite  composer  was  Beethoven,  to  whom  he  was 
passionately  devoted.  Once,  when  Mr.  Bellasis  said  of  the 
Allegretto  of  the  Eighth  Symphony,  that  it  was  like  a  giant 
at  play,  Newman  replied,  '  It  is  curious  you  should  say  that. 
I  used  to  call  him  the  gigantic  nightingale.  He  is  like  a 
great  bird  singing.  My  sister  remembers  my  using  the  ex- 
pression long  ago.'  He  had  reached  this  preference  gradually. 
'  I  recollect,'  he  writes  to  a  friend  in  1865,  'how  slow  I  was 
as  a  boy  to  like  the  School  of  Music,  which  afterwards  so 
possessed  me  that  I  have  come  to  think  Haydn  almost 
vulgar."  He  impressed  the  cult  of  Beethoven  on  all  the  young 
Oratorians  who  played  in  his  company.  '  They  might  start 
with  Corelli,  and  go  on  to  Romberg,  Haydn,  and  Mozart,' 
writes  Mr.  Bellasis.  '  Their  ultimate  goal  was  Beethoven.'  As 
with  literature,  so  with  music,  Newman  was  on  the  whole  true 
to  his  early  loves — indeed,  he  was  resolutely  old-fashioned. 
Beethoven  already  possessed  him  in  the  twenties,  and  later 
masters  never  quite  won  his  heart.  This  was  especially  true 
with  sacred  music.  Mr.  Bellasis  writes  on  this  subject  in 
some  detail : 

'  He  was  very  slow  to  take  (if  he  ever  really  took)  to  new- 
comers on  the  field  of  sacred  music.  And  holding,  as  he  did, 
that  no  good  work  could  be  adequately  judged  without  a 
thorough  knowledge  of  it,  he  was  disinclined  to  be  introduced 
to  fresh  musical  names  at  all,  on  the  bare  chance,  that  might 
never  occur,  of  what  had  been  a  casual  acquaintanceship 
ripening  into  an  intimate  friendship.  He  had  in  early  days 
found  time  and  opportunity  to  comprehend  certain  masters, 
Corelli,  Handel,  Haydn,  Romberg,  Mozart,  and  Beethoven, 
but  Schubert,  Schumann,  Wagner  ("  I  cannot  recollect  all  the 
fellows'  names  "),  who  were  these  strangers,  intruding  some- 
what late  in  the  evening  upon  a  dear  old  family  party  ?  Thus 
he  writes  in  March,  1871,  of  Mendelssohn's  chief  sacred  work 
which  he  had  been  reluctantly  induced  to  go  and  listen  to,  and 
which  he  was  never  got  to  hear  again  :  "I  was  very  much  dis- 
appointed the  one  time  that  I  heard  the  '  Elijah,'  not  to  meet 
with  a  beautiful  melody  from  beginning  to  end.  What  can 
be  more  beautiful  than  Handel's,  Mozart's,  and  Beethoven's 
melodies?"  Now,  of  course,  there  is  plenty  of  melody  in 
the  "  Elijah,"  though  it  may  be  conceded  that  Mendelssohn's 


LIFE   AT   THE   ORATORY  351 

melodious  gift  is  less  copious  than  that  of  Mozart.  But  the 
fact  was,  Cardinal  Newman  never  got  to  know  the  "  Elijah," 
doubtless  deemed  it  long,  and  felt  content  to  feed  upon  the 
\x\\x?>\Q.-3\  pabulum  that  he  had  so  long  found  satisfying.  .  .  . 

'  He  got  to  know  fairly  well  Mendelssohn's  canzonet 
quartet  and  Schumann's  pianoforte  quintet  Op.  44  ;  but  we 
recall  no  musical  works  heard  by  him  for  the  first  time  in 
very  late  life  making  any  particular  impression  on  the  Father, 
with  one  notable  exception  ;  Cherubini's  First  Requiem  in 
C  Minor,  done  at  the  Festival,  August  29,  1879.  We  were  to 
have  gone  with  him,  but  a  Father  who  accompanied  him 
wrote  us  instead  next  day  :  "  The  Father  was  quite  overcome 
by  it.  He  kept  on  saying  '  beautiful,  wonderful,'  and  such- 
like exclamations.  At  the  '  Mors  stupebit '  he  was  shaking 
his  head  in  his  solemn  way,  and  muttering  '  beautiful, 
beautiful'  He  admired  the  fugue 'Quam  olim  '  very  much, 
but  the  part  which  struck  him  most  by  far,  and  which  he 
spoke  of  afterwards  as  we  drove  home,  is  the  ending  of  the 
'Agnus  Dei' — he  could  not  get  over  it — the  lovely  note  C 
which  keeps  recurring  as  the  '  requiem  '  approaches  eternity. 
When  the  second  Requiem  in  D  was  done  in  its  true  home, 
the  Church,  later,  on  the  2nd  and  13th  November,  1886,  he 
said  '  It  is  magnificent  music'  '  That  is  a  beautiful  Mass ' 
(adding,  with  a  touch  of  pathos)  '  but  when  you  get  as  old  as 
I  am,  it  comes  rather  too  closely  home.' 

Father  Ignatius  Dudley  Ryder,  of  the  Oratory,  has  left 
some  very  valuable  notes,  mainly  on  Newman's  literary  tastes 
and  gifts,  from  which  a  selection  must  here  be  given.  And 
I  find  among  Father  Neville's  papers  some  comments  written 
by  himself  on  Newman's  daily  habits.  There  is  also  a  pen- 
and-ink  sketch  by  another  hand  which  I  have  no  means  of 
identifying,  to  which  is  prefixed  a  paragraph  quoting  lines 
addressed  by  Newman  to  his  father  and  exemplar,  St.  Philip 
Neri,  showing  a  pathetic  consciousness  of  his  own  intense 
sensitiveness : 

'  He  trusted  himself,'  says  this  last-named  writer,  'to  the 
guidance  and  example  of  the  Saint  who  remained  half  in 
the  world,  and  whose  Cloister  has  been  called  "  the  home  of 
Christian  joy."     To  him  he  addressed  the  simple  lines  : 

' "  I'm  ashamed  of  myself,  of  my  tears  and  my  tongue, 
So  easily  fretted,  so  often  unstrung  ; 
Mad  at  trifles  to  which  a  chance  moment  gives  birth, 
Complaining  of  heaven  and  complaining  of  earth."  ' 


352  LIFE   OF   CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

Of  the  Father's  daily  life  and  habits  the  same  writer 
speaks  as  follows  : 

'  The  early  morning  was  devoted  to  meditation,  prayers 
and  ecclesiastical  duties  ;  the  succeeding  hours  to  study  and 
work.  Newman,  who  was  a  good  pedestrian,  seldom  omitted 
his  accustomed  afternoon  walk.  At  6  o'clock  they  dined 
all  together  in  the  Refectory,  and  when  it  fell  to  his  turn 
Newman  would  serve  his  guests  and  brethren  as  though  he 
had  been  the  least  among  them.  There  was  reading  aloud 
during  the  meal,  then  some  theological  question  was  shortly 
discussed,  after  which  they  all  went  to  the  Community  Room 
where  coffee  was  served,  and  an  hour  spent  in  social  converse, 
with  sometimes  the  addition  of  music.  Nothing  was  easier 
than  to  arouse  Newman's  interest,  for  everything  interested 
him, — literature,  politics,  the  trade  and  stipulations  of  the 
merchant,  the  circumstances  of  persons  and  places  known  to 
him  ;  rural  life  ;  the  studies  of  the  young  men  ;  the  thoughts 
of  the  simple  and  the  lowly,  no  less  than  the  most  difficult 
problems  and  controversies. 

*  "  Have  you  seen  the  new  quay  at  Chelsea  ?  "  he  asked  a 
lady  friend  who  visited  him  during  the  last  months  of  his 
life.  She  knew  nothing  about  it.  "  You  come  from  London 
and  have  not  seen  it ! "  answered  the  Cardinal,  quite 
astonished.  .  .  . 

'  In  his  intercourse  there  was  nothing  of  the  scholar 
about  him,  and  he  carefully  avoided  all  pedantry  in  expres- 
sion. He  once  said  that  if  he  had  had  to  choose  between 
social  intercourse  without  literary  pursuits  and  literary 
pursuits  without  social  intercourse,  he  would,  as  a  student, 
without  hesitation  have  chosen  the  former.  This  amiability 
in  society,  this  power  of  adapting  himself  to  everyone,  knew 
yet  one  exception.  When  people  endeavoured  to  force  him  to 
express  his  opinion  upon  undecided  controversial  questions, 
or  again,  when  they  began  ill-timed  and  impossible  discussions 
on  "  the  origin  of  evil  "  for  example,  or  on  the  Vatican  decrees, 
at  table — ''  entre  la  poire  et  le  frotnage','  or  when,  as  so  often 
happens  in  England  as  elsewhere,  they  would  try  to  save 
themselves  the  trouble  of  thinking  over  difficult  questions 
by  half  an  hour's  conversation  with  a  man  of  note,  then  he 
treated  them  as  they  deserved.  A  Member  of  Parliament 
took  the  train  to  Edgbaston  at  the  time  of  the  struggle  in 
which  the  temporal  power  was  sacrificed.  "  Ah !  Father 
Newman,"  he  began,  "  what  times  we  live  in  ;  only  see  what 
is  going  on  in  Italy."  "  Yes,  indeed  ;  but  only  see  too  what 
is  going  on  in  China  and  New  Zealand ! "     Sometimes  his 


LIFE   AT   THE   ORATORY  353 

answers  to  such  importunities  would  be  followed  by  a 
dissertation  on  the  cultivation  of  grapes  in  hothouses,  for 
instance,  or  on  the  advantage  of  the  fast  train  at  11.45  over 
that  at  4,26.' 

Father  Ryder,  himself  a  literary  artist  and  a  true  poet 
as  well  as  an  able  theologian,  writes  as  follows  of  Newman's 
literary  tastes  and  preferences  : 

'  He  has  told  us  that  the  joy  of  literary  composition — 
a  joy  which  one  would  have  imagined  would  have  corre- 
sponded in  some  degree  to  the  beauty  of  the  composition — 
was  unknown  to  him  ;  that  he  felt  joy  in  the  deliverance  of 
the  task,  in  throwing  off  the  burden  of  an  accomplished  work, 
but  nothing  more.  The  truth  was  his  sense  of  responsibility 
in  almost  everything  that  he  wrote,  was  overwhelming,  and 
the  self-discipline  of  his  nature  made  him  shrink  from  a 
curious  choice  of  literary  pasture.  He  read  for  a  purpose, 
for  the  most  part  to  meet  the  urgent  and  prosaic  needs  of  the 
day.  Although  such  works  as  "  Callista ''  and  the  "  Church  of 
the  Fathers  "  shew  an  historical  imagination  which  could  have 
made  a  home  for  itself  in  any  age,  I  think  he  had  not  the 
antiquarian  taste  which  would  have  made  the  omnigenous 
literature  of  antiquity  interesting  to  him.  Had  he  ever  lost 
his  sense  of  a  vocation  and  found  the  "  green  retreat "  of 
which  the  poet  sings,  I  cannot  but  suspect  that  he  would  have 
frequented  his  garden  rather  than  his  library  ;  that  he  would 
have  gardened,  built  more  or  less,  and  conversed,  but,  beyond 
a  few  verses,  the  world  would  have  received  little  from  him 
in  the  way  of  literary  composition.  For  one  who  read  and 
wrote  so  much  he  had  singularly  little  of  the  typical  cha- 
racter of  a  man  of  letters.  He  enjoyed  the  conversation  of 
professional  men — of  soldiers,  doctors,  lawyers, — all  who 
could  give  an  intelligent  account  of  what  interested  them, 
and  this  not  merely  from  good  nature,  but  from  the  genuine 
interest  he  took  in  the  "quidquid  agunt  homines."  He  always 
gave  one  the  impression  that  he  might  have  been  great  in 
any  department  of  life  ;  that  he  might  have  been  a  great 
general,  a  great  lawyer,  a  great  parliamentary  debater — 
whether  he  could  ever  have  been  a  great  party  leader  I  can- 
not say.  He  insists  repeatedly  in  the  "  Apologia  "  that  he 
never  could  manage  a  party  ;  as  he  expressed  it,  that  he  "  had 
not  a  sufficiently  strong  wrist."  I  suspect  he  had  too  keen 
a  .sympathy  for  individuality  to  enforce  the  necessary  drill. 
His  own  verse  "  Thou  couldst  a  people  raise  but  couldst  not 
rule"  was  applied  to  himself,  he  tells  us,  by  one  of  his  friends, 

VOL.   II.  A  A 


354  I-IFE   OF   CARDTNAT.   NEWMAN 

and  he  fully  accepts  the  imputation.  At  all  periods  of  his 
life  he  was  I  think  a  constant  reader  of  the  daily  press,  but 
he  was  no  amateur  politician,  and  on  the  principle  "cuique  in 
sua  arte  credendum  "  where  he  did  not  feel  that  he  had  made 
a  subject  matter  his  own  he  was  inclined  to  reverse  the  maxim 
"  measures  not  men."  As  regards  books  I  think  his  favourite 
authors  amongst  the  Fathers  were  St.  John  Chrysostom  and 
Tertullian.  I  speak  here  with  diffidence.  I  do  not  forget  his 
affection  for  St.  Basil  and  the  two  Gregories  and  his  life-long 
devotion  to  St.  Athanasius,  but  the  two  first-mentioned  I 
think  he  admired  most.  How  he  spoke  of  St.  Chrysostom 
and  the  character  of  his  scripture  commentary  is  well  known. 
I  myself  have  heard  him  speak  of  Tertullian  as  the  theo- 
logical genius  of  the  Early  Church  with  tears  in  his  voice  if 
not  in  his  eyes,  whilst  he  pointed  out  how  frequently  the 
initial  sin  of  heresy  was  impatience — impatience  to  do  God's 
work  otherwise  than  He  would  have  it  done  and  so  in- 
effectually. In  regard  to  poetry  he  had  little  sympathy  with 
the  objective  criticism  of  the  day.  He  liked  what  he  liked 
intensely,  but  I  think  he  was  impatient  of  being  called  upon  to 
account  for  his  liking  of  this  or  that.  In  the  region  of  poetry 
he  certainly  adhered  to  his  principle  that  "  egotism  is  true 
modesty."  I  think  he  could  have  admired  Byron  heartily 
if  his  moral  disapprobation  had  allowed  him.  I  have  heard 
him  speak  with  enthusiasm  of  the  third  canto  of  "  Childe 
Harold"  with  an  "O  si  sic  omnia."  I  do  not  think  he  ever 
took  cordially  to  Wordsworth.  That  poet's  didactic  tone, 
his  almost  sacerdotal  pretensions,  offended  him,  and  he  was 
wearied  by  his  excessive  deliberateness.  But  never  shall  I 
forget — I  was  a  boy  at  the  time,  just  recovering  from  an 
illness — his  coming  and  reading  to  me  the  famous  Ode  "  On 
the  Intimations  of  Immortality."  There  was  a  passion  and  a 
pathos  in  his  voice  that  made  me  feel  that  it  was  altogether 
the  most  beautiful  thing  I  had  ever  heard.  He  was  very 
fond  of  Crabbe,  the  firm  realistic  touches  of  his  descriptions 
of  scenery  and  character  delighted  him  ;  and  his  moralizing 
recommended  itself  to  him  as  the  legitimate  outcome  of 
common-sense  humanity.  He  has  told  us  in  the  "Apologia" 
and  elsewhere  how  he  loved  Southey.  "  Southey's  beautiful 
poem  of  '  Thalaba,'  for  which  I  had  an  immense  liking,  came 
forcibly  to  my  mind."  Poor  Southey !  there  would  seem 
to  be  a  consensus  to-day  amongst  all  classes  of  critics,  that 
you  have  lost  for  ever  your  seat  amongst  the  immortals, 
and  yet  three  at  least  of  the  idols  of  to-day,  Coleridge  and 
Landor  and  Newman,  worshipped  you!  .  .  .  "Thalaba"  was 


LIFE  AT  THE   ORATORY  355 

particularly  attractive  to  Cardinal  Newman  as  the  picture  of 
a  life-long  vocation  with  its  mysterious  isolation  ever  at  war 
with  the  social  instincts  of  the  hero  ;  its  irrepressible  onward 
movement  despite  its  grave  oriental  quietude  ;  its  asceticism  ; 
its  succession  of  pictures,  which  so  full  of  colour  never 
glitter,  have  nothing  of  the  impressionist  about  them  ;  the 
tremendous  catastrophe  in  which  the  hero  dying  achieves  his 
victory,  without  earthl)'  recompense.  It  was  his  picture  of 
what  he  trusted  the  Movement  and  his  share  in  the  Move- 
ment would  have  been.  He  was  himself  a  traveller :  the 
"  Apologia "  is  the  history  of  his  journey  from  a  form  of 
Calvinism  through  different  phases  of  Anglicanism  into  the 
Catholic  Church.  .  .  . 

'  He  had  but  very  slight  acquaintance  with  our  poets 
of  the  last  forty  years.  One  or  two  things  of  Tennyson  he 
knew  that  younger  friends  had  introduced  him  to,  ?iad  in  fact 
read  to  him,  and  I  have  heard  him  express  great  admiration 
for  "  Mariana  in  the  Moated  Grange."  The  only  one  of  our 
modern  poets  so  far  as  I  know  whom  he  seemed  inclined 
to  read,  though  bej'ond  the  opening  pages  he  would  not  go, 
was  W.  Morris,  both  his  "  Earthly  Paradise  "  and  his  "  [Life 
and  Death]  of  Jason."  It  was  evident  that  he  was  genuinely 
impressed  by  his  poetic  gift,  but  I  think  he  had  a  special 
scruple  about  what  poetry  he  read,  that  which  did  not  suit  him 
not  suiting  him  at  all.  It  was  to  him  food  or  air  rather  than 
scenery  which  he  could  look  at  and  pass  on,  where  he  did  not 
need  to  stay.  This  was  of  course  the  case  more  or  less  with 
other  books  which  did  not  come  in  the  way  of  duty,  but 
I  think  it  was  especially  so  with  poetry.  Of  classical  poetry 
his  special  favourites  were  the  "  Odyssey,"  the  "  Georgics,"  the 
"  Prometheus  "  of  ^schylus,  Euripides  rather  than  Sophocles 
attracted  him,  especially  the  "  Alcestis."  He  was  devoted  to 
Sir  Walter  Scott's  novels,  frequently  referring  to  them  in 
his  writings  as  an  influence  for  good  as  well  as  a  source 
of  artistic  delight.  He  was  fond  of  Thackeray,  reading 
faithfully  everything  that  he  wrote  down  to  the  last  un- 
finished work,  and  the  same  may  be  said  of  Trollope  ;  I 
believe  there  was  not  one  of  his  which  he  had  not  read  and 
delighted  in. 

*  Mrs.  Gaskell  was  another  favourite  writer.  For  George 
Eliot  I  think  he  felt  little  or  no  attraction.  In  the  regions 
of  poetry  and  fiction  I  hardly  think  he  admired  anything 
that  he  did  not  like,  and  he  liked  nothing  the  general 
tendency  of  which  he  did  not  regard  as  making  for 
righteousness.       At  least  this  was  more  nearly  the  case  with 

A  A  2 


356  LIFE   OF   CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

him  than  with  any  one  else  I  have  ever  known,  and  it  is  a 
tremendous  confession  to  make  in  an  age  which  beheves  that 
art  is  its  own  justification.  Another  favourite  book  of  his 
was  Fouquc's  talcs  of  "  Undine,"  "  Sintram,"  and  the  rest.  I 
remember  a  lady  telling  me  that  when  he  was  staying  at  her 
house  she  lent  him  "  Sintram,"  which  he  had  not  seen  before, 
and  that  it  was  extraordinary  the  way  in  which  it  absorbed 
him. 

'In  the  "  Apologia"  he  speaks  of  the  new  generation,  ot 
the  movement  of  the  young  men  which  carried  him  away  to 
a  great  extent  from  his  earlier  companions  and  contem- 
poraries, and  he  accounts  for  this  by  a  variety  of  incidental 
circumstances.  The  truth  is,  as  we  who  have  lived  with  him 
know  full  well,  that  young  men  have  always  exercised  a 
peculiar  influence  over  him.  There  has  been  for  the  most  part 
mutual  attraction.  I  do  not  think  he  ever  cared  much  for 
the  child  or  the  boy  except  in  idea,  but  the  young  man  he 
loved  and  yielded  him  all  the  honours  of  manhood  ungrudg- 
ingly at  a  time  when  others  would  have  been  apt  to  with- 
hold them.  He  never  committed  the  mistake  of  putting 
the  boy  upon  the  youth.  But  for  the  "  tonsured  Head 
of  Middle  Age  "  I  think  he  was  not  inclined  to  shew  much 
consideration.  It  was  to  him  a  youth  not  much  wiser  and 
very  much  less  ready.  I  think  the  young  have  ever  been 
his  best  allies,  and  the  old  in  whom  there  has  been  a  revival 
of  youth.' 

Father  Ryder's  notes  include  some  interesting  com- 
ments on  Newman's  gifts  as  a  poet,  and  on  his  method  in 
controversy  and  in  writing  on  philosophy  : 

'  The  early  Lyrics  and  the  "  Dream  of  Gerontius  "  have 
been  very  generally  accepted  as  of  unique  beauty  in  their  kind. 
The  latter  was  made  the  subject  of  an  inaugural  address  by 
the  Professor  of  Poetry  at  Oxford — Sir  Francis  Doyle.  And 
even  a  poet  of  Mr.  Swinburne's  alien  temperament  can 
recognize  "  the  force,  the  fervour,  the  terse  energy  of  Cardinal 
Newman's  verse  at  its  best "  and  "  a  genuine  lyric  note " 
which  makes  him  question  whether  there  was  not  a  deal  of 
true  poetry  thrown  away  upon  what  he  is  pleased  to  call 
the  "  sands "  and  "  thickets  "  of  theology  {XlXth  Century, 
May  '84).  The  "  Dream  of  Gerontius  "...  has  had  a  strong 
attraction  for  uneducated  as  well  as  educated  persons.  I 
knew  a  poor  stocking  weaver  who  on  his  death  bed  made  his 


LIFE  AT  THE   ORATORY  357 

wife  read  it  to  him  repeatedly.  It  was  one  of  the  favourite 
works  of  General  Gordon/  and  after  his  death  his  copy, 
copiously  underlined,  was  shown  to  the  Cardinal,  who  was 
very  much  touched  and  transferred  the  pencil  marks  to  his 
own  copy.  'Lead,  kindly  Light"  is  perhaps  the  most 
popular  modern  hymn  in  the  language.  Some  of  his  re- 
ligious lyrics  are  amongst  the  most  direct  and  passionate 
expressions  of  strong  feeling  in  the  language.  I  remember 
hearing  an  eccentric  but  acute  critic,  with  something  of 
Mr.  Swinburne's  turn  for  grouping  poets,  thus  deliver  himself 
in  our  common  room,  "  Under  the  head  '  poets  of  passion ' 
I  would  put  Lord  Byron,  Charles  Wesley,  and,"  bowing 
to  Fr.  Newman,  "  if  I  may  be  allowed  to  say  so,  your 
Reverence."  We  were  all  very  much  amused,  but  I  have 
thought  since  that  the  criticism  was  almost  as  true  as  it  was 
grotesque. 

'The  expression  "Newman's  Stcbjectivitdt"  has  become, 
I  believe,  a  current  phrase  in  Germany  [in  reference 
especially  to  his  philosophical  writing].  It  is  not  that  he 
fails  to  recognise  the  existence  of  an  intuition  of  meta- 
physical and  moral  truth  as  a  property  of  human  reason, 
and  affording  when  recognised  a  sure  basis  for  rigid 
demonstration,  but  he  feels  that,  taking  men  as  they  are, 
formally  to  insist  upon  this  would  be  premature  and  un- 
practical ;  and  so  he  adopts  a  controversial  method  of  his 
own,  and  it  is  certainly  the  very  reverse  of  that  of  the  logical 
metaphysician,  and  falls  in  well  with  the  motto  he  selected 
when  he  was  made  Cardinal — "Cor  ad  cor  loquitur."  Instead 
of  presenting  his  readers  with  a  logical  formula  which  says 
equivalently  "  accept  my  position  on  pain  of  being  convicted 
of  an  absurdity" — a  treatment  for  which  most  Englishmen  in 
the  region  of  metaphysic  have  not  sufficient  logical  nerve, — 
he  would  seem  to  say,  "  take  pains  to  understand  my  language, 
stand  where  I  stand  and  see  if  you  do  not  feel  as  I  am 
feeling."  Not  that  his  treatment  is  not  full  of  logic,  but  it 
is  logic  in  solution  where  the  reader  finds  himself  pursuing 
an  argument  almost  unconsciously.  He  does  not  care  to 
project  himself  along  a  single  line  or  many  single  lines  of 
logical  thought  along  which  at  best  the  mere  logical  siuin- 
lacruui  of  his  reader,  not  the  whole  concrete  man,  will  follow 
him  ;  but  he  would  fain  make  a  wide  pathway  wherein  a 
traveller  may  move  rejoicing,  carrying  with  him  all  that  is 
his.     He    sometimes  seems  to  shrink  from  abstractions  as 

'    Vide  infra,  p.  514. 


358  LIFE   OF   CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

from  attenuated  truths  and  endeavours  to  frame  his  argu- 
ment from  concrete  to  concrete.  His  exercise  of  formal 
logic  in  practice  is  often  wonderfully  dexterous  and  subtle, 
but  it  is  rather  used  as  a  sword  for  defence  or  attack  than 
as  his  implement  for  building  the  walls  of  Jerusalem.  He  is 
impatient  of  conventional  forms  of  thought  as  of  armour  not 
made  for  him  without  any  derogation  from  its  absolute  value. 
"  Dixitque  David  ad  Saul,  Non  possum  sic  incedere,  quia  non 
usum  habeo.     Et  deposuit  ea."  ' 

Of  Newman's  position  in  his  own  country  during  the 
last  years  of  his  life  Father  Ryder  gives  his  own  personal 
recollections  and  impressions  : 

*  Ever  since  the  publication  ot  the  "  Apologia,"  Cardinal 
Newman  has  been  accepted  by  the  general  public  of  his 
countrymen  not  merely  as  a  religious  writer  of  consummate 
genius  but  as  emphatically  an  honest  thinker  and  writer,  one 
who  might  be  trusted  never  consciously  to  overstate  his  case 
or  undervalue  the  position  of  an  adversary  ;  who  was  an 
Englishman  with  his  heart  in  the  right  place — no  "  Inglese 
Italianato  "  as  the  old  phrase  went,  but  one  in  whose  affec- 
tions his  country  and  his  countrymen  had  never  ceased  to 
hold  their  own.  Thus  it  often  happened  that  persons  who 
could  not  find  a  civil  word  to  say  of  the  Pope  or  of  aught  to 
him  appertaining,  always  made  an  exception  in  favour  of 
Father  Newman,  adding,  more  frequently  than  not,  that  of 
course  he  did  not  count,  seeing  that  he  was  in  his  present 
position  a  sort  of  lusus  natum^  an  exception  proving  the  rule. 
Still,  he  did  count  notwithstanding,  and  for  a  good  deal  ; 
and  Englishmen  have  got  to  think  better  of  Catholics  for  the 
sake  of  Cardinal  Newman.  His  popularity  found  a  safe- 
guard and  support  in  a  condition  of  things  which  on  other 
grounds  we  might  be  inclined  to  deprecate,  his  seclusion 
from  public  life.  He  has  not  been  forced  by  his  position  to 
take  a  decided  line  on  each  question  as  it  has  arisen  ;  to 
assume  the  character  of  a  partizan  or  the  scarcely  less  odious 
role  of  an  officious  neutral.  It  has  been  open  to  him  almost 
always  to  keep  silence  except  when  he  has  elected  to  break 
it.  He  has  been  allowed  to  choose  the  subject  and  the 
moment  and  the  manner  of  his  intervention,  to  calculate 
nicely  his  point  of  incidence,  until  people  learned  to  re- 
cognise that  the  mere  fact  of  his  opening  his  mouth  implied 
that  he  had  something  to  say  which,  whether  they  agreed 
with  it  or  not,  was  well  worth  listening  to.  It  is  wonderful 
the  extent  to  which  of  late  years  all  sorts  of  persons  with 


LIFE   AT   THE   ORATORY  359 

religious  difficulties  have  had  recourse  to  him.  Members, 
often  ministers,  of  various  religious  bodies,  Methodists, 
Presbyterians,  &c.  with  no  sort  of  leaning  towards  the 
Church,  have  sought  his  guidance  and  advice  and  sympathy  ; 
and  his  correspondence  of  this  sort,  until  writing  became 
an  impossibility  for  him,  was  enormous.  Indeed,  now  and 
again  one  came  across  something  which  almost  looked  like  a 
cidtus  of  Cardinal  Newman  outside  the  Church.  A  member 
of  a  Baptist  Congregation  in  a  large  manufacturing  town 
told  her  daughter — a  Catholic — that  their  minister  had  been 
for  three  Sundays  preaching  upon  Cardinal  Newman  as  a 
model  of  Christian  virtue,  and  expounding  "  Lead,  kindly 
Light."  ' 

Father  Neville's  own  Recollections  (which  I  transcribe 
with  slight  abridgment  and  transpositions)  are  various- 
passing  sometimes  to  details  in  themselves  trivial,  yet  of 
interest  to  those  who  regard  as  precious  all  that  concerns 
a  great  man.  Many  of  them  belong  to  the  years  following 
Newman's  elevation  to  the  Sacred  College,  and  shall  be  given 
later  on.  But  his  minute  notes  concerning  Newman's 
devotional  habits,  written  in  response  to  questions  from  the 
Father's  friends,  tell  of  an  earlier  period  and  may  be  here 
set  down  : 

'  It  has  been  asked  whether  the  Father  showed  at  his 
devotions  any  special  habits, — for  instance  :  Did  he  in  any 
way  support  himself  on  such  occasions  ;  and  did  he  always 
kneel  upright  ?  His  ordinary  way  was  what,  under  the 
circumstances,  would  come  naturally  to  him.  In  visits  to 
the  Blessed  Sacrament,  and  ordinarily,  he  would  rest  upon 
what  was  before  him,  with  his  face  in  his  hands,  or  with  his 
hands  clasped  against  the  back  of  his  head.  But  when 
engaged  in  a  religious  act,  whether  private  or  public,  his 
whole  mien  was  that  of  a  person  most  reverently  and  abso- 
lutely absorbed  in  what  he  was  about ;  this,  however,  did  not 
hinder  him  in  any  act  proper  for  the  time  and  place,  nor  did 
he  need  to  have  his  attention  drawn  to  it.  If  he  knelt  up- 
right and  without  support,  it  would  be  at  times  when  it  was 
proper  or  becoming  ;  and  whatever  his  attitude  might  be,  it 
was  always  natural  and  free  from  appearance  of  strain. 
Even  on  an  occasion  such  as  the  procession  of  tl;e  Blessed 
Sacrament  on  Corpus  Christi,  there  would  not  be  anything 
noteworthy  in  him  to  strike  an  ordinary  observer,  )'et  some  at 
least  of  his  assistants,  when  he  carried  the  Blessed  Sacrament, 


36o  LIFE   OF   CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

have  a  still  lasting  impression  of  him  that  had  been  made 
on  them  from  his  ready  exactness  in  his  recitation  of 
the  Psalms,  and  the  reverence  that  accompanied  all  he  said 
and  did.  It  was  the  accumulation  in  the  memory  of  these 
passing  views  of  him,  each  year  adding  its  own — whether 
differing  or  the  same — that  so  impressed  them  with  the 
reality  and  the  meaning  of  this  act  of  devotion,  and  of  his 
own  faith. 

'AH  this  can,  no  doubt,  be  said  of  many  another;  but 
here  it  answers  questions  about  J.  H.  Newman  in  particular. 
To  the  last,  he  himself  gave  much  attention  to  the  externals 
of  this  devotion  in  honour  of  Our  Lord  ;  the  singing,  the 
orderliness,  etc.,  of  all  the  proceedings,  each  had  his  interest 
in  them  beforehand,  nor  did  they  escape  him  at  the  time. 
Moreover,  at  all  times,  when  he  genuflected  to  the  Blessed 
Sacrament,  he  was  invariable  in  touching  the  ground,  or  all 
but  so,  with  his  knee — occasionally  on  seeing  those  to  whom 
he  could  speak  getting  into  a  careless  habit  in  this  respect, 
he  would  draw  their  attention  to  it.  This  was  always  done 
quietly,  gently,  almost  imperceptibly. 

'  If  it  is  at  all  worth  while  to  add  more  to  the  above  it 
may  be  said  that  in  appearance,  gesture  and  bearing,  he 
differed  much  according  to  the  devotions,  and  the  portions  of 
them,  in  which  he  was  engaged.  His  entrance  to  Mass,  for 
instance,  would  have  given  an  able  painter  the  opportunity 
for  a  very  different  portrait  of  him  from  that  of  his  return, 
and  in  his  recital  of  the  Gloria  of  the  Mass  both  his  face 
and  manner  have  sometimes  been  spoken  of  by  his  servers 
as  very  striking  to  them.  At  the  Sepulchre,  too,  on  Holy 
Thursday  and  Good  Friday,  his  demeanour  differed  from 
other  times.  This  devotion  was  held  in  great  reverence  by 
him,  and  he  was  evidently  distressed  at  any  slackness  of 
attendance  at  it,  or  if  the  preparations  for  it  fell  short  of  his 
expectations  for  his  own  church.  For  instance :  If  the 
flowers  were  all  white,  or  only  white  and  yellow,  however 
well  intended  this  may  have  been,  he  was  far  from  satisfied  ; 
he  looked  for  richness  and  beauty  and  harmony  of  colours, 
and  he  regarded  their  absence  as  arising  from  neglect. 

'  Each  year,  when  Holy  Week  came  round,  he  spent  some 
hours  in  watching  at  the  Sepulchre,  as  constantly  in  his  last 
years  as  before  ;  and  the  early  morning  of  his  last  Good 
Friday  on  earth  found  him  in  the  Chapel  of  Repose  thus 
employed.  He  was  then  in  his  ninetieth  year.  Thus,  as  at 
other  times  of  devotion,  the  simplicity  and  naturalness  of  his 
manner, — so  recollected  withal, — could  not  but  strike  those 


LIFE   AT   THE  ORATORY  -,6i 


who  might  see  him — they  took  the  place  ol  any  distinctive 
sign  such  as  has  been  looked  for.  To  many,  the  memory  of 
him  at  such  times  reproduces  him  clothed  as  it  were  with 
these. 

'  These  notes  are  but  the  observations  of  one  and  another 
in  the  course  of  years.  There  was  no  painter  or  sculptor 
living  with  him.  , 

'  More  interesting  than  his  external  appearance  would  be 
the  Cardinal's  attitude  of  mind  at  these  different  times  ot 
prayer.  Somewhat  of  this  may  be  gathered  from  his  poetry 
and  various  writings.  The  volume  of  meditations  and  devo- 
tions published  after  his  death  adds  still  more,  by  showing 
him  in  lights  where  it  had  been  supposed  that  he  was  not  to 
be  seen.  His  own  autograph  books  of  daily  private  prayers 
give  impressions  of  him  which  are  not  to  be  got  elsewhere, 
and  are  sui  generis.  Some  extracts  from  these  books  which 
follow,  and  indeed  the  whole,  were  done,  not  at  once  and  for 
all,  but,  as  though  to  keep  them  in  mind,  were  rewritten  and 
added  to  from  time  to  time.  They  bear  dates  which  cover 
nearly  the  whole  period  of  his  Catholic  life,  and  end  only 
when,  near  to  his  death,  the  writing  becomes  almost  illegible. 
Objects  of  prayer  are  allotted  to  different  days  ;  so  also  are 
persons  to  be  prayed  for,  their  names  being  classified  under 
headings,  such  as  these  :  Auld Lang  Sync  ;  Dear  to  me  ;  Kind 
to  me ;  No  Jwiv  to  me  ;  St.  Mary's  and  Littlemore ;  Faithful 
women ;  Witli  claim  on  mc ;  Loyal  to  me ;  Ecclesiastics ; 
The  Dead.  There  was  a  pleasure  to  him  in  arranging  what 
he  had  in  mind  in  short  lines,  and  he  liked  to  make  his 
meditation  with  a  pen  in  his  hand.' 

Father  Neville  adds  the  following  extracts  : 

'1853. 

'  General  Objects. 

'  Friday. 

'  Increase  of  Priests. 

Sanctification  of  Priests  and  People. 

Spread  of  Religion. 

Conversion  of  the  Nations. 

All  who  befriend  or  help  us. 

All  who  ask  my  prayers. 

All  who  attend  our  Church. 

All  who  are  in  our  schools. 

Catholic  Education. 


362  LIFE   OF   CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

All  in  our  Mission. 

All  in  Birmingham. 

All  in  England— the  Queen. 

All  I  have  forgotten. 

All  who  helped  me  in  the  Achilli  matter. 

The  Faithful  departed.^ 

Opponents  and  enemies. 

'  Memento  Defunctorum. 

'Adam  de  Brome.-         Edward  IL^ 

Sir  Thomas  Pope.^ 

Count  Mellerio.^         John  Baptist  Palma.*^ 

Fr.  Dominic. 

Mgr.  Allemani.^ 

Fathers  Perrone,  Buonvicino,  Ripetti.^ 

All  whom  I  have  attended  on  their  sick  bed. 

All  whom  I  ought  to  have  attended  and  did  not. 

Any  who  have  died  Protestants  through  me 

Make  up  to  them  and  forgive  me 

The  defects  of  my  ministrations. 

'  General  Memento. 

'  The  Holy  Father,  for  wisdom  and  fortitude. 

The  Holy  Roman  Church. 

The  Cardinals, 

our  Bishop  and  Chapter,  seculars,  regulars, 

the  whole  Hierarchy,  in  England,  throughout  the  world 

all  religious  orders, 

all  ecclesiastical  establishments  and  institutions, 

for  children  and  the  young,  rich  and  poor,  for  the  sick, 

prisons,  reformatories,  penitentiaries, 

all  religious  associations  ; 

for  the  extension  and  prosperity  of  Holy  Church, 

for  the  sanctification,  intelligence,  influence  of  her  children, 

for  her  success  with  heathen,  infidels,  misbelievers, 

heretics,  schismatics. 

'  With  names. 
*'  Joint  Founders  of  Oriel. 
Founder  of  Trinity  College,  Oxford. 

*  Count  Mellerio  w  as  very  kind  to  J.  H.  N.  at  Milan,  when  the  latter  was  on 
his  way  to  Rome  in  1846. 

*  Author  of  a  Life  of  Christ,  used  in  Lent  by  J.  H.  N. 

'  Bishopof  all  California,  he  died  Archbishopof  San  Francisco.  He  interested 
himself  much  for  Newman  in  the  Achilli  trial. 

*  Jesuits  in  Rome.  The  last  was  at  Propaganda  while  J.  H.  N.  and  St.  John 
were  there,  and  was  much  esteemed  by  them.  There  is  a  further  long  list  of  names 
which  I  do  not  transcribe. 


LIFE   AT   THE  ORATORY  36- 

For  her  victory  over  kings,  governments  and  people. 

For  her  confessors,  missionaries,  apologists, 

for  her  theologians,  controversialists,  literary  men. 

For  our  Colonies, 

for  Ireland,  France,  Germany,  Italy, 

Spain,  Russia,  Egypt,  United  States. 

For  our  Oratory, 

For  each  of  its  Fathers,  for  good  novices, 

Oratorium  Parvum, 

For  its  Mission,  orphanage,  poor  schools,  middle  schools, 

penitents  and  people, 

for  the  Oratory  School  with  its 

matrons,  masters,  servants,  old  scholars. 

Pro  re  pecuniaria  nostra, 

and  as  regards  Rednal  and  Ravenhurst. 

For  the  London  Oratory. 

For  all  Oratories,  here  and  abroad. 

For  all  who  befriend  me,  who  have  a  claim  on  my  prayers. 

Who  attend  our  Church,  all  teachers  and  taught. 

All  my  benefactors  and  well-wishers. 

All  who  subscribed  and  prayed  for  me 

in  the  Achilli  matter, 

in  the  Oxford  matter, 

and  on  my  being  appointed  Cardinal, 

for  all  my  friends  and  acquaintance, 

for  all  my  work,  by  word,  deed,  or  writing, 

for  all  whom  I  have  influenced, 

for  my  future. 

'  Memento  Vivorum. 

'  For  all  the  Fathers  and  the  Brothers 

And  our  Novices  and  Scholars, 

And  the  Little  Oratory  ; 

And  our  Friends  and  Benefactors, 

And  our  Schools  for  poor  and  gentle. 

And  our  Parish,  past  and  present, 
Harborne,  Edgbaston,  and  Smethwick 

For  our  preaching  and  our  singing, 

For  our  reading  and  our  writing. 

For  sufficient  worldly  goods. 

And  for  all  the  sacred  College, 

And  the  Papal  Curia, 

And  our  Bishops  and  their  Clergy, 

And  St.  Philip's  London  Fathers, 

And  the  University  of  Ireland, 


364  LIFE   OF   CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

And  for  Trinity  and  Oriel, 
And  the  state  of  Christendom. 

For  my  private  Benefactors, 

And  my  penitents  and  pupils, 

And  my  kindred  and  connections. 

And  my  friends  and  my  acquaintance, 

And  my  slanderers  and  thwarters, 

Catholic  and  Protestant.^ 

A  few  extracts  from  the  Meditations  and  Devotions  which 
Newman  wrote  from  time  to  time  may  be  set  down  as  having 
in  them  much  of  self- revelation' 

The  following  is  a  prayer  for  wisdom  in  the  use  of  the 
faculty  of  Reason  : — 

'  O  gracious  and  merciful  God,  Father  of  Lights,  I  humbly 
pray  and  beseech  Thee,  that  in  all  my  exercises  of  Reason, 
Thy  gift,  I  may  use  it,  as  Thou  wouldst  have  me  use  it,  in  the 
obedience  of  Faith,  with  a  view  to  Thy  Glory,  with  an  aim  at 
Thy  Truth,  in  dutiful  submission  to  Thy  Will,  for  the  comfort 
of  Thine  elect,  for  the  edification  of  Holy  Jerusalem,  Thy 
Church,  and  in  recollection  of  Thine  own  solemn  warning  : 
"  Every  idle  word  that  men  shall  speak,  they  shall  give  an 
account  thereof  in  the  day  of  judgment ;   for  by  thy  words, 

•  The  following  is  a  tablet  inscription  beneath  a  picture  of  the  Sacred  Heart 
in  the  Oratory  Church  : 

'  MY   LOVING   JESUS, 

I    GIVE   THEE    MY    HEART  ; 

AND    I   CONSECRATE   MYSELF 

WHOLLY   TO   THEE 

OUT   OF   THE   GRATEFUL   LOVE    I    BEAR   THER, 

AND    AS    A    REPARATION 

FOR   ALL    MY    UNFAITHFULNESS   TO   GRACE, 

AND   WITH   THINE  AID    I    PURPOSE 

NEVER   TO  SIN   AGAIN.' 

'  The  devotion  of  the  Sacred  Heart,'  adds  Father  Neville,  '  was  a  very  special 
devotion  to  him,  and  it  is  remembered  that  he  spoke  of  it  in  years  long  gone  by 
as  affecting  him  far  more  powerfully  than  other  devotions  which  he  named, 
though  to  those  also  he  was  known  to  be  drawn.  In  early  years,  after  the 
Oratory  had  settled  down  at  Edgbaston,  he  built  the  Chapel  of  the  Sacred  Heart 
with  money  of  his  own  — a  chapel  thirty  feet  square  every  way— and  he  covered 
its  walls  with  tiling  at  a  considerable  cost.  Having  a  preference  for  somewhat 
retired  places  for  prayer,  he  meant  this  Chapel  to  be  cut  off  from  the  Church  by  a 
screen,  but,  while  it  was  in  progress,  other  building  enlargements  caused  it  to 
be  thrown  quite  open  as  it  now  stands.  The  altar  itself  was  given  by  a  friend, 
Miss  Frances  Farrant. 

*  A  Chapel,  or,  at  least  an  altar  of  St.  Francis  de  Sales,  was  another  desire  of 
his  from  this  time,  and  when  it  became  necessary  for  him  as  Cardinal  to  have  a 
little  private  chapel  of  his  own,  he  dedicated  the  altar  to  St.  Francis  de  Sales. 
The  picture  of  the  Saint  that  he  placed  over  it  was  the  gift  of  a  friend,  a  lady 
always  most  true  to  him,  Miss  Bowles.  It  took  the  place  of  a  chrome  of  the 
Saint  which  he  had  got  for  himself  in  Rome.' 


LIFE    AT  THE  ORATORY  365 

thou    shalt   be  justified,  and    by  thy  words,  thou    shalt   be 
condemned." 

Here  is  one  which  was  evidently  written  in  view  of  the 
special  trials  which  have  been  recorded  in  these  volumes  arising 
from  the  action  of  the  ecclesiastical  authorities  in  his  regard  : 

'  O  my  God,  in  Thy  sight,  I  confess  and  bewail  my 
extreme  weakness  in  distrusting,  if  not  Thee,  at  least  Thy 
own  servants  and  representatives,  when  things  do  not  turn 
out  as  I  would  have  them,  or  expected  !  Thou  hast  given 
me  St.  Philip,  that  great  creation  of  Thy  grace,  for  my  master 
and  patron — and  I  have  committed  myself  to  him — and  he 
has  done  very  great  things  for  me,  and  has  in  many  ways 
fulfilled  towards  me  all  that  I  can  fairly  reckon  he  had 
promised.  But,  because  in  some  things  he  has  disappointed 
me,  and  delayed,  I  have  got  impatient  ;  and  have  served 
him,  though  without  conscious  disloyalty,  yet  with  peevish- 
ness and  coldness.  O  my  dear  Lord,  give  me  a  generous 
faith  in  Thee  and  in  Thy  servants  ! ' 

In  another  we  see  the  sad  thought  that  he  was  losing  his 
time  and  doing  nothing,  and  his  effort  to  picture  a  work  done 
in  God's  way  even  though  his  own  cherished  aims  and  the 
tasks  he  felt  best  fitted  to  perform  had  again  and  again  been 
thwarted  : 

'  O  my  Lord  Jesu,  I  will  use  the  time.  It  will  be  too  late 
to  pray,  when  life  is  over.  There  is  no  prayer  in  the  grave — 
there  is  no  meriting  in  Purgatory.  Low  as  1  am  in  Thy  all 
holy  sight,  I  am  strong  in  Thee,  strong  through  Thy  Im- 
maculate Mother,  through  Thy  Saints:  and  thus  I  can  do 
much  for  the  Church,  for  the  world,  for  all  I  love.  O  let 
not  the  blood  of  souls  be  on  my  head  !  O  let  me  not  walk 
my  own  way  without  thinking  of  Thee.  Let  me  bring 
everything  before  Thee,  asking  Thy  leave  for  everything  I 
purpose.  Thy  blessing  on  everything  I  do.  ...  As  the  dial 
speaks  of  the  sun,  so  will  I  be  ruled  by  Thee  alone,  if  Thou 
wilt  take  me  and  rule  me.  Be  it  so,  my  Lord  Jesus,  I  give 
myself  wholly  to  Thee.' 

In  another  prayer  he  reminds  himself  of  the  great  and 
solemn  fact  of  the  Catholic  Church  as  an  ever-present  guide  : 

'  Let  me  never  for  an  instant  forget  that  Thou  hast  estab- 
lished on  earth  a  kingdom  of  Thy  own,  that  the  Church  is 
Thy  work,  Thy  establishment.  Thy  instrument  ;  that  we  are 
under  Thy  rule,  Thy  laws  and  Thy  eye — that  when  the 
Church  speaks  Thou  dost  speak.     Let  not  familiarity  with 


366  LIFE   OF   CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

this  wonderful  truth  lead  me  to  be  insensible  to  it — let  not 
the  weakness  of  Thy  human  representatives  lead  me  to  forget 
that  it  is  Thou  who  dost  speak  and  act  through  them.' 

In  yet  another  he  prays  for  light  in  his  teaching,  and  asks 
to  be  saved  from  a  false  originality  of  thought : 

'Come,  O  my  dear  Lord,  and  teach  me  in  like  manner.  I 
need  it  not,  and  do  not  ask  it,  as  far  as  this,  that  the  word  of 
truth  which  in  the  beginning  was  given  to  the  Apostles  by 
Thee,  has  been  handed  down  from  age  to  age,  and  has  already 
been  taught  to  me,  and  Thy  Infallible  Church  is  the  warrant 
of  it.  But  I  need  Thee  to  teach  me  day  by  day,  according  to 
each  day's  opportunities  and  needs.  I  need  Thee  to  give  me 
that  true  Divine  instinct  about  revealed  matters  that,  knowing 
one  part,  I  may  be  able  to  anticipate  or  to  approve  of  others 
I  need  that  understanding  of  the  truths  about  Thyself  which 
may  prepare  me  for  all  Thy  other  truths — or  at  least  may  save 
me  from  conjecturing  wrongly  about  them  or  commenting 
falsely  upon  them.  I  need  the  mind  of  the  Spirit,  which  is 
the  mind  of  the  holy  Fathers,  and  of  the  Church,  by  which  I 
may  not  only  say  what  they  say  on  definite  points,  but  think 
what  they  think  ;  in  all  I  need  to  be  saved  from  an  originality 
of  thought,  which  is  not  true  if  it  leads  away  from  Thee. 
Give  me  the  gift  of  discriminating  between  true  and  false  in 
all  discourse  of  mine.' 

To  the  above  should  be  added  his  Meditation  on  the 
Feast  of  All  Saints  as  giving  his  ruling  thought  through  life 
and  his  prayer  for  a  happy  death  : 

*  I.  Place  yourself  in  the  presence  of  God,  kneeling  with 
hands  clasped. 

'  2.  Read  slowly  and  devoutly.  Apocalypse,  vii.  9-17. 
'  3.  Bring  all  this  before  you  as  in  a  picture. 

*  4.  Then  say  to  Him  whatever  comes  into  your  mind  to 
say  ;  for  instance  :  — 

' "  They  are  before  the  throne  of  God,  and  serve  Him  day 
and  night  in  His  Temple."  "  They  shall  not  hunger  nor  thirst 
any  more  "  ;  "  The  Lamb  shall  lead  them  to  the  fountains  of 
living  waters." 

'  (i)  My  dear  Lord  and  Saviour,  shall  I  ever  see  Thee  in 
heaven  ?  This  world  is  very  beautiful,  very  attractive,  and 
there  are  many  things  and  persons  whom  I  love  in  it.  But 
Thou  art  the  most  beautiful  and  best  of  all.  Make  me  ac- 
knowledge this  with  all  my  heart,  as  well  as  by  faith  and  in 
my  reason. 


LIFE   AT  THE  ORATORY  367 

*  (2)  My  Lord,  I  know  nothing  here  below  lasts  ;  nothing 
here  below  satisfies.  Pleasures  come  and  go  ;  I  quench  my 
thirst  and  am  thirsty  again.  But  the  saints  in  heaven  are 
always  gazing  on  Thee,  and  drinking  in  eternal  blessedness 
from  Thy  dear  and  gracious  and  most  awful  and  most  glorious 
countenance, 

'  5.  Conclusion. — May  my  lot  be  with  the  saints.' 

Let  a  few  more  extracts  be  quoted,  telling  of  thoughts 
habitually  in  his  mind  : 

'  Let  me  bear  pain,  reproach,  disappointment,  slander, 
anxiety,  suspense,  as  Thou  wouldest  have  mc,  O  my  Jesu, 
and  as  Thou  by  Thy  own  suffering  hast  taught  me,  when  it 
comes.  And  I  promise  too,  with  Thy  grace,  that  I  will 
never  set  myself  up,  never  seek  pre-eminence,  never  court 
any  great  thing  of  the  world,  never  prefer  myself  to  others, 

'  Give  me  that  life,  suitable  to  my  own  need,  which  is 
stored  up  for  us  all  in  Him  who  is  the  life  of  men. 
Teach  me  and  enable  me  to  live  the  life  of  Saints  and 
Angels.  Take  me  out  of  the  languor,  the  irritabilit)',  the 
sensitiveness,  the  incapability,  the  anarchy,  in  which  my  soul 
lies,  and  fill  it  with  Thy  fulness.  Breathe  on  me,  that  the 
dead  bones  may  live.  Breathe  on  me  with  that  Breath  which 
infuses  energy  and  kindles  fervour.  In  asking  for  fervour, 
I  ask  for  all  that  I  can  need,  and  all  that  Thou  canst  give  ; 
for  it  is  the  crown  of  all  gifts  and  all  virtues.  It  cannot 
really  and  fully  be,  except  where  all  are  present.  It  is  the 
beauty  and  the  glory,  as  it  is  also  the  continual  safeguard  and 
purifier  of  them  all.  In  asking  for  fervour,  I  am  asking  for 
effectual  strength,  consistency,  and  perseverance ;  I  am 
asking  for  dcadncss  to  every  human  motive  and  simplicity  of 
intention  to  please  Thee  ;  I  am  asking  for  faith,  hope,  and 
charity  in  their  most  heavenly  exercise.  In  asking  for 
fervour  I  am  asking  to  be  rid  of  the  fear  of  man,  and  the 
desire  of  his  praise  ;  I  am  asking  for  the  gift  of  prayer, 
because  it  will  be  so  sweet ;  I  am  asking  for  that  loyal  per- 
ception of  duty,  which  follows  on  yearning  affection  ;  I  am 
asking  for  sanctity,  peace,  and  joy  all  at  once.  In  asking  for 
fervour,  I  am  asking  for  the  brightness  of  the  Cherubim  and 
the  fire  of  the  Seraphim,  and  the  whiteness  of  all  Saints.  In 
asking  for  fervour,  I  am  asking  for  that  which,  while  it 
implies  all  gifts,  is  that  in  which  I  signally  fail.  Nothing 
would  be  a  trouble  to  me,  nothing  a  difficulty,  had  I  but 
fervour  of  soul. 


368  LIFE  OF   CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

'Lord,  in  asking  for  fervour,  I  am  asking  for  Thyself, 
for  nothing  short  of  Thee,  O  my  God,  who  hast  given 
Thyself  wholly  to  us.  Enter  my  heart  substantially  and 
personally,  and  fill  it  with  fervour  by  filling  it  with  Thee. 
Thou  alone  canst  fill  the  soul  of  man,  and  Thou  hast 
promised  to  do  so.  Thou  art  the  living  Flame,  and  ever 
burnest  with  love  of  man  :  enter  into  me  and  set  me  on  fire 
after  Thy  pattern  and  likeness. 

*  How  can  I  keep  from  Thee  ?  For  Thou,  who  art  the 
Light  of  Angels,  art  the  only  Light  of  my  soul.  Thou 
enlightenest  every  man  that  comcth  into  this  world.  I  am 
utterly  dark,  as  dark  as  hell,  without  Thee.  I  droop  and 
shrink  when  Thou  art  away.  I  revive  only  in  proportion  as 
Thou  dawnest  upon  me.  Thou  comest  and  goest  at  Thy 
will.  O  my  God,  I  cannot  keep  Thee!  I  can  only  beg 
of  Thee  to  stay.  "  Mane  nobiscum,  Domine,  quoniam 
advesperascit."  Remain  till  morning,  and  then  go  not 
without  giving  me  a  blessing.  Remain  with  me  till  death  in 
this  dark  valley,  when  the  darkness  will  end.  Remain,  O 
Light  of  my  soul,  jam  advesperascit !  The  gloom,  which  is 
not  Thine,  falls  over  me.  I  am  nothing.  I  have  little  com- 
mand of  myself  I  cannot  do  what  I  would.  I  am  discon- 
solate and  sad.  I  want  something,  I  know  not  what  It  is 
Thou  that  I  want,  though  I  so  little  understand  this.  I  say 
it  and  take  it  on  faith  ;  I  partially  understand  it,  but  very 
poorly.  Shine  on  me,  O  Ignis  seuiper  ardens  et  nunquam 
deficietis  I — "O  fire  ever  burning  and  never  failing" — and 
I  shall  begin,  through  and  in  Thy  Light,  to  see  Light,  and 
to  recognise  Thee  truly,  as  the  Source  of  Light.  Mane 
nobiscnni ;  stay,  sweet  Jesus,  stay  for  ever.  In  this  decay 
of  nature,  give  more  grace. 

Prayer  for  a  Happy  Death. 

'  Oh,  my  Lord  and  Saviour,  support  me  in  that  hour  in 
the  strong  arms  of  Thy  Sacraments,  and  by  the  fresh  fra- 
grance of  Thy  consolations.  Let  the  absolving  words  be  said 
over  me  and  the  holy  oil  sign  and  seal  me,  and  Thy  own 
Body  be  my  food,  and  Thy  Blood  my  sprinkling ;  and  let 
my  sweet  Mother,  Mary,  breathe  on  me,  and  my  Angel 
whisper  peace  to  me,  and  my  glorious  Saints  .  .  .  smile  upon 
me  ;  that  in  them  all,  and  through  them  all,  I  may  receive 
the  gift  of  perseverance,  and  die,  as  I  desire  to  live,  in 
Thy  faith,  in  Thy  Church,  in  Thy  service,  and  in  Thy 
love.     Amen.' 


LIFE   AT  THE   ORATORY  369 

I  will  conclude  these  notes  on  Newman's  life  at  the 
Oratory  with  a  vivid  impression,  which  I  owe  to  the  kindness 
of  Canon  Scott  Holland,  of  a  visit  he  paid  to  Newman  in 
1877.  Canon  Holland  described  the  visit  at  the  time  in  a 
letter  to  a  friend  (Mrs.  Ady)  and  retouched  and  added  to 
his  account  for  the  present  volume  : 

'  The  sight  of  my  old  letter  to  Mrs.  Ady  has  quickened 
my  memory  of  a  day  that  I  can  never  forget.  I  recall  the 
swift  sudden  way  in  which  I  found  him  beside  me,  as  I  was 
being  led  through  the  upper  rooms  by  my  friend.  I  turned 
at  the  sound  of  the  soft  quick  speech,  and  there  he  was — 
white,  frail  and  wistful,  for  all  the  ruggedness  of  the  actual 
features.  I  remembered  at  once  the  words  of  Furse  about 
him,  "delicate  as  an  old  lady  washed  in  milk."  One  felt 
afraid  to  talk  too  loud,  lest  it  should  hurt  him.  I  expected 
him  to  be  taller,  and  it  was  a  shock  to  find  myself  looking 
downwards  at  him.  He  had  the  old  man's  stoop.  He  was, 
in  the  mean  time,  shaking  me  by  the  hand,  and  offering 
welcome  in  low  rapid  courtesies  of  manner  and  voice.  He 
would  see  me  later  in  the  Common-room  :  and  so  was  gone 
as  swiftly  as  he  had  entered. 

'And  this  was  Newman! — I  was  saying  to  myself  over 
and  over  again.  The  generation  of  to-day  cannot  understand 
all  that  this  meant  to  us  in  the  seventies.  The  evenine 
came  :  and  I  went  to  the  refectory.  Each  had  a  little  table 
to  himself,  and  mine  was  next  to  the  Father's.  I  watched, 
with  awe,  through  dinner  the  big  curve  of  the  lower  jaw  at 
work,  and  the  marked  frontal  bones  over  the  eyes. 

'A  Reader  was  drawling  out  Newman's  own  history  of 
the  Turks.  He  seemed  dreadfully  bored,  and  we  all  were 
relieved  when  the  Father  signalled  to  him  to  give  it  up.  At 
the  close  of  the  meal  the  habitual  casuistical  riddle  was  sent 
round  the  table.  It  was  taken  from  St.  Alfonso,  and  dealt 
with  the  problem  of  a  full-grown  man  working  as  a  carpenter 
in  his  father's  shop,  who  was  forced  to  hand  over  all  his  gains  to 
his  father,  only  to  receive  back  an  inadequate  wage.  Might  he 
reserve,  without  his  father's  knowledge,  the  amount  that  was 
really  and  justly  due  to  him  ?  I  sat  quaking  lest  the  riddle 
should  come  round  to  me  for  an  answer,  and  was  greatly 
relieved  at  n  slashing  final  verdict  given  against  the  son  by 
Father  Newman.  Only  unluckily  St.  Alfonso's  judgment 
which  was  then  read  out  from  the  book  went  dead  the  other 
way.  I  was  rather  disconcerted  by  this  contretemps  :  I  gazed 
severely  at  my  plate,  but  nobody  seemed  to  mind  it.  After  a 
VOL.  II.  E  B 


370  LIFE   OF   CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

while  we  withdrew  to  the  Common  Room.     And  then  I  was 
put  next  to  the  Father,  who  laid  himself  out  to  talk  freely 
and  delightfully  to  me,  until  the  time  came  for  me  to  bolt  for 
my  train.    The  talk  was  all  about  Oxford.     He  could  not  tire 
of  the  smallest  detail  of  news  from  there.     Every  little  touch 
was  of  interest  to  him.     Had  I  seen  Dr.  Pusey  lately  ?  I  told 
him    of    a    University  Sermon  which  the  Doctor  had  just 
delivered  in  a  voice  choked  for  minutes  at  a  time  by  hurri- 
canes of  coughing.     "  Ah  yes  !  he  never  could  manage*  the 
voice.     The  first  time  that  he  had  asked  him  to  read  the 
lessons  in   St.  Mary's,  he  had   spoken  out  of  his  boots,  and 
coming  out  I  said  to  him,  '  Pusey,  Pusey  !  this  will  never  do.'  " 
I  think  he  got  him  to  coach  with  some  expert.     I  mentioned 
that  Oriel  was  in  difficulty  over  its  roof,  and  had  to  patch  up 
its  gables  with  plaster,  having  no  money  to  do  more.     "  Yes  ! 
the  beams  in  the  roof  were  always  rotten."     He  had  got  a 
little  broken  bit  of  one  in  his  room  now.     A  Keble  man  had 
been  drowned  out  of  a  Canoe  in  a  curious  corner  of  a  back- 
water in  Magdalen   Meadows.     He  had   tracked  the  whole 
thing  out  from  the  Papers,  and  had  made  out  the  precise  spot 
where  it  had  happened.     He  was  quite  pleased  to   find  from 
me  that  he  had  got  it  right.     So  the  urgent  enquiries  went 
on,  in  silvery  whispers,  keen  and  quick.     It  was,  of  course, 
wonderful  and  beautiful  to  me,  that  he  should  treat  me  with 
such  kindly  deference,  and  should   invest  me,  so  delicately, 
with  something  of  the  halo  that  belonged  to  any  one  who 
brought  a  touch  of  Oxford  with  him.     I  had  to  fly  for  my 
train,  and  sped  home  tingling  with  the  magic  of  a  presence 
that  seemed  to  me    like  the    frail    embodiment  of  a  living 
voice.     His  soul  was  in  his  voice,  as  a  bird  is  in  its  song. 
It  was  his  spiritual  expression.     And  listening  to  these  soft 
swift  subtle  tones,  "  the  earth  we  pace  appeared   to  be  an 
unsubstantial  fairy  place,"  meet  home  for  the  mystery  of  the 
lyrical  cry. 

'  For  the  rest  I  came  away  with  a  great  feeling  of  sadness. 
For  these  were  the  days  when  he  was  still  under  a  cloud  : 
and  as  I  eagerly  pressed  my  Oratorian  friend  to  tell  me  how 
they  lived,  and  what  they  did,  I  got  very  little  told  me.  At 
every  turn,  the  answer  came,  "  Oh  !  we  must  keep  quiet.  We 
cannot  do  much.  We  cannot  write  books.  We  might  get 
Father  Newman  into  trouble."  They  evidently  had  to  tread 
very  warily  :  and  I,  who  had  gone  there  ail  agog  with  the 
Oratorian  Ideal  returned  home  with  my  ardour  rather  damped. 
'  But  I  had  had  my  opportunity,  and  the  memory  of  it 
passed  into  my  life. 

'  H.  S.  Holland.' 


i 

.^IPP             '^^f 

»» 
M 

/W 

**'" 

J 

JOHN   HENRY  NEWMAN,  1873. 
From  an  Eiigra-i'ui^  by  J  oicpk  Brown. 


CHAPTER    XXXI 

AFTER   THE    COUNCIL    (187I-1874) 

The  Vatican  Council  was  a  crisis  in  the  history  of  the 
Church.  It  was  the  culmination  of  a  drama.  The  battle 
between  Liberals  and  Ultramontanes  had  been  raging — more 
especially  in  France  and  Germany — for  nearly  twenty  years. 
Now  Pius  IX.  had  carried  his  intervention  in  the  contest — an 
intervention  which  had  begun  with  the  Syllabus  of  1864 — to 
its  furthest  possible  limit.  Pius  stood  before  his  generation 
as  an  heroic  figure  amid  his  misfortunes,  a  singularly  lovable 
personality  ;  and  loved  doubly  for  the  persecution  which  had 
realised  St.  Malachi's  prophecy  that  his  reign  would  be  signed 
by  the  cross.^  Masterful  in  action,  filled  with  a  sense  of  his 
Divine  mission,  he  had  now  brought  to  bear  his  great  personal 
influence  in  rallying  to  his  standard  all  the  forces  of  Catholic 
loyalty.  The  result  had  been  that  the  Liberals  were 
routed.  The  grave  fears  of  wise  men  as  to  the  consequences 
of  the  Pope's  action  had  no  driving  power  which  could 
compete,  in  influencing  Catholic  opinion,  with  the  appeal  of 
the  saintly  successor  of  Peter,  persecuted,  speaking  with  the 
single-heartedness  of  a  martyr  and  the  assurance  of  a  prophet. 
One  of  the  most  influential  of  the  opponents  of  the  definition 
— Bishop  liefele  of  Rottenburg,  himself  a  saintly  man — for 
a  time  withheld  his  submission,  avowing  his  hope  that  the 
Bishops  of  the  minority  would  take  concerted  action.  Other 
Bishops,  too,  preserved  for  some  months  an  attitude  of  hesi- 
tation and  expectancy.  Newman,  though  himself  accepting 
the  definition,  did  not  at  once  regard  it  as  obligatory  on 
others.     The  Council  was  not  yet  terminated.     Its  resump- 

'   'Crux  de  cruce '  was  St.   Malachi's  motto  for   Pius  IX.      Leo  XIII.  was 
'  Lumen  in  Coelo  ' ;  Pius  X.  '  Ignis  ardcns' ;  his  successor  '  Religio  depopulata.' 

B  R  2 


372  LIFE   OF   CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

tion  might  give  opportunities  for  explanations  of  importance 
which  should  be  waited  for.  Will  the  minority  act  together 
as  a  constitutional  body  ?  Will  the  Council,  in  deference  to 
their  attitude,  in  any  way  qualify  its  decision  ?  Such  were 
the  questions  which  at  first  occurred  to  him. 

But  the  Council  was  not  to  reassemble  in  that  generation. 
The  enemy  at  the  gates  of  Rome  entered  by  the  Porta  Pia 
in  September.  Pius  directed  that  not  a  blow  should  be 
struck.  Victor  Emmanuel  took  up  his  residence  at  the 
Quirinal.  Rome  became  the  capital  of  the  new  Italian 
kingdom.  Henceforth  no  longer  a  temporal  sovereign,  Pius 
did  not  set  foot  outside  the  Vatican.  A  fresh  and  intense 
wave  of  sympathy  was  evoked  from  Catholic  Christendom. 
It  was  not  a  moment  when  Catholic  feeling  was  ready  to 
tolerate  any  action  which  was  even  in  appearance  opposed  to 
the  cherished  ideals  of  the  martyred  Pontiff. 

And  in  point  of  fact  the  only  firm  stand  taken  up  against 
the  definition  was  made,  not  by  holy  men  like  Hefele  or 
Dupanloup,  not  by  powerful  Bishops  of  the  minority  acting 
in  concert  as  rulers  of  the  Church,  but  by  extreme  and 
fanatical  Liberals  like  Professor  Friedrich  and  his  friends. 
When  the  opposition  to  the  definition  was  organised 
by  the  Congress  at  Munich  in  1871  the  'old  Catholic' 
community  (as  it  was  called)  was  founded  on  a  schismatical 
basis,  against  the  express  wish  of  Dollinger,  who  held  aloof 
from  the  movement,  though  he  rejected  the  dogma.  The  old 
Catholics  had  henceforth  their  own  separate  churches.  Their 
Bishop,  Dr.  Reinkens,  was  consecrated  by  the  Jansenist  Bishop 
of  Deventer.  The  German  Government  gave  him  a  salary 
and  patronised  the  schismatics.  Protestant  and  Erastian  in 
its  character  from  the  first,  the  old  Catholic  sect  bore  rapidly 
the  fruits  whereby  its  character  was  manifested.  The  laws  of 
the  Church  on  fasting  and  confession  were  tampered  with 
or  set  aside.  A  married  clergy  was  instituted.  Professor 
Friedrich  himself  eventually  withdrew  from  the  movement, 
from  which  Dollinger  had  all  along  consistently  held 
aloof. 

On  the  other  hand,  Hefele,  confronted  with  the  prospect 
of  a  schism,  submitted  in  1871  and  promulgated  the  Vatican 
decrees  in  his  diocese.     It  was  not  doubtful  on  which  side  of 


AFTER   THE   COUNCIL   (1871-1874)  373 

such  opposing  powers  Newman  would  be  found.  The  dogma 
of  Papal  Infallibility  he  had  always  held.  Submission  to 
authority  had  ever  been  the  corner-stone  of  Catholic  loyalty 
in  his  eyes.  He  very  soon  treated  the  dogma  as  of  obligation, 
and  urged  on  all  his  friends  the  duty  of  submission.  Never- 
theless, like  Bishop  Hefele  and  others  who  had  opposed 
the  definition,  Newman  was  very  anxious  as  to  its  probable 
consequences.  This  anxiety  was  greater,  not  less,  because, 
as  the  Bishops  of  the  minority  took  no  concerted  action, 
he  so  soon  came  to  regard  the  acceptance  of  the  definition 
as  obligatory.  It  was,  therefore,  a  very  great  relief  to  him 
when  Monsignor  Fessler,  the  Secretary-General  of  the  Vatican 
Council,  published  with  Papal  approval  his  book  on  'True  and 
False  Infallibility,'  in  which  he  took  a  view  of  its  extent 
even  more  moderate  than  that  advocated  in  Father  Ryder's 
pamphlet  against  W.  G.  Ward.  It  was  true  that  works  con- 
taining more  stringent  interpretations  also  received  Papal 
approval.  But  the  liberty  which  Newman  judged  to  be  neces- 
sary was  secured  by  Fessler's  view  being  admitted  as  allow- 
able. The  official  countenance  of  Fessler's  weighty  theological 
judgment  was  a  reminder  that  the  co-operation  of  theologians 
of  different  views — the  theological  Schola— secured  the  con- 
stitution of  the  Church  against  absolutism  and  the  excesses 
of  individuals.  The  Holy  Father  was  ruler,  and  to  him  it 
appertained  to  declare  what  was  in  conformity  with  the 
revelation  of  which  he,  as  head  of  the  Church,  was  guardian  ; 
but  he  did  not  set  aside  or  oppose  the  theological  school, 
and  the  reconciliation  of  details  of  his  declarations  with  other 
authoritative  dicta,  their  interpretation  so  as  to  leave  such 
dicta  intact — in  a  word,  the  assimilation  of  a  single  Papal 
utterance  to  the  rest  of  the  Church's  teaching — appertained 
again  to  the  discussions  of  the  Schola.  So,  too,  lawyers 
had  to  interpret  nev/  Acts  of  Parliament  and  reconcile  their 
working  with  that  of  already  existing  Acts — all  emanating 
from  the  Legislature,  which  had  supreme  jurisdiction  over 
the  lawyerc  themselves  as  the  Pope  had  over  the  theologians. 
Thus  even  if  a  Pope  or  Council  should  issue  a  decree  with 
insufficient  theological  elaboration,  the  Schola  would  supply 
in  its  interpretation  what  might  have  been  wanting  in  its 
preparation.     The  theological  life  and  teaching  of  the  Church 


374  LIFE   OF   CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

based  on  so  large  a  body  of  authoritative  dicta  was  not  dis- 
turbed or  materially  changed  by  a  single  Papal  utterance, 
which  rather  presupposed  that  life  and  teaching,  as  governing 
its  interpretation. 

'  The  Catholic  Church,'  Newman  wrote  to  Lord  Blachford, 
*  has  its  constitution  and  its  theological  laws  in  spite  of  the 
excesses  of  individuals. 

'  It  is  this  which,  if  I  understand  your  letter,  is  a  novel 
idea  to  you, — and  it  is  this,  which  Acton  means  (I  consider), 
though  he  is  unlucky  in  his  language,  as  not  being  a  theo- 
logian, when  he  says  it  is  no  matter  what  Councils  or  Popes 
decree  or  do,  for  the  Catholic  body  goes  on  pretty  much 
as  it  did,  in  spite  of  all — the  truth  being  that  the  Schola 
Theologorum  is  (in  the  Divine  Purpose,  /  should  say)  the 
regulating  principle  of  the  Church,  and,  as  lawyers  and 
public  offices  (if  1  may  thus  speak  coram  te)  preserve  the 
tradition  of  the  British  Constitution,  in  spite  of  the  King, 
Lords,  and  Commons,  so  there  is  a  permanent  and  sui  similis 
ife  in  the  Church,  to  which  all  its  acts  are  necessarily 
assimilated,  nay,  and  under  the  implied  condition  of  its 
existence  and  action  such  acts  are  done  and  are  accepted. 
I  think,  when  you  were  here  last,  I  said  to  j'ou  our  great 
want  just  now  was  theological  schools,  which  the  great 
French  Revolution  has  destroyed.  This  had  been  the 
occasion  of  our  late  and  present  internal  troubles.  Where 
would  Ward  have  been,  if  there  had  been  theological  schools 
in  England  ?  Again,  the  Archbishop  is  not  a  theologian,  and, 
what  is  worse,  the  Pope  is  not  a  theologian,  and  so  theology 
has  gone  out  of  fashion.  This  is  the  only  reason  which 
made  me  regret  not  going  to  Oxford, — and  this  is  why 
Ward  did  all  he  could  at  Rome,  and  successfully,  to  hinder 
me  going.  I  don't  profess  to  be  a  theologian,  but  at  all 
events  I  should  have  been  able  to  show  a  side  of  the  Catholic 
religion  more  theological,  more  exact,  than  his.  W^here 
there  is  such  a  lack  of  theological  science,  I  must  not  take  it 
for  granted  as  yet  that  I  am  out  of  the  wood,  for  I  may  still 
receive  some  cuff  from  the  political  ultra-devotional  party, — 
but  I  don't  think  it  can  be  very  bad.'  ^ 

'  The  same  view  is  presented  in  the  Preface  to  the  Via  Media,  pubhshed  in 
1877.  Religion,  Newman  writes,  is  'never  in  greater  danger  than  when,  in 
consequence  of  national  or  international  troubles,  the  Schools  of  theology  have 
been  broken  up  and  ceased  to  be.  ...  I  say,  then,  Theology  is  the  fundamental 
and  regulating  principle  of  the  whole  Church  system.  It  is  commensurate  with 
Revelation,  and  Revelation  is  the  initial  and  essential  idea  of  Christianity  It  is 
the  subject-matter,  the  formal  cause,  the  expression,  of  the  Prophetical  Office, 


AFTER  THE   COUNCIL   (1871-1874)  375 

Such  was  the  view  which  the  events  of  the  Council  led 
him  to  express  a  few  years  after  its  suspension.  At  the  time 
itself  he  was  intent  on  making  the  position  tolerable  to  those 
who  were  most  tried  by  the  doctrine  or  by  the  circumstances 
which  issued  in  its  definition.  '  Exert  a  little  faith,'  he  writes 
to  Miss  Bowles,  '  God  will  provide, — there  is  a  power  in  the 
Church  stronger  than  Popes,  Councils,  and  theologians,  and 
that  is  the  Divine  Promise  which  controls  against  their  will 
and  intention  every  human  authority.' 

With  those  who  seceded  — Dollinger  and  his  friends,  Pere 
Hyacinthe  and  others — while  he  condemned  their  action,  he 
showed  a  measure  of  sympathy,  and  he  spoke  of  them 
tenderly.  '  I  will  never  say  a  word  of  my  own  against  those 
learned  and  distinguished  men,'  he  wrote  of  the  German 
seceders  in  his  '  Letter  to  the  Duke  of  Norfolk.'  '  Their 
present  whereabout,  wherever  it  is,  is  to  me  a  thought  full  of 
melancholy.  .  .  .  They  have  left  none  to  take  their  place.' 
'You  may  understand,'  he  wrote  to  Lord  Acton  in  1871, 
'  how  keenly  distressed  I  am  about  what  is  going  on  in 
Germany  as  regards  religion.  The  prospect  of  taking  a 
middle  line  there  seems  so  forlorn  and  hopeless.  No  one 
could  feel  more  grieved  than  myself  at  the  proceedings  of  the 
Council,— but  the  question  is  in  the  present  state  of  things 
what  is  to  be  done  ?  ' 

To  P^re  Hyacinthe,  who  wrote  to  him  on  the  state  of 
affairs  in  the  very  year  of  the  Council,  he  replied  as  follows  : 

'  The  Oratory  :  November  24lh,  1S70. 

'  My  dear  Father  Hyacinthe,— I  am  always  glad  to  hear 
from  you  and  of  }-ou. 

and,  as  being  such,  has  created  both  tlie  Regal  Office  and  the  Sacerdotal.  And 
it  has  in  a  certain  sense  a  power  of  jurisdiction  over  those  offices,  as  being  its 
own  creations,  theologians  being  ever  in  request  and  in  employment  in  keeping 
within  bounds  both  the  political  and  popular  elements  in  the  Church's  constitu- 
tion,— elements  which  are  far  more  congenial  than  itself  to  the  human  mind, 
are  far  more  liable  to  excess  and  corruption,  and  are  ever  struggling  to  liberate 
themselves  from  those  restraints  which  are  in  truth  necessary  for  their  well-being. 
On  the  one  band,  Popes,  such  as  Liberius,  Vigilius,  Boniface  VIII.,  and  Sixtus  V., 
under  secular  inducements  of  tlie  moment,  seem  from  time  to  time  to  have  been 
wishing,  though  unsuccessfully,  to  venture  beyond  the  lines  of  theology ;  and  on 
the  other  hand,  private  men  of  an  intemperate  devotion  are  from  time  to  time 
forming  associations,  or  predicting  events,  or  imagining  miracles,  so  unadvisedly 
as  to  call  for  the  interference  of  the  Index  or  Holy  Office.' 


376  LIFE   OF   CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

'  It  grieved  me  bitterly  that  you  should  have  separated 
yourself  from  the  One  True  Fold  of  Christ  ;  and  it  grieves 
me  still  more  to  find  from  your  letter  that  you  are  still  in  a 
position  of  isolation. 

'  I  know  how  generous  your  motives  are,  and  how  much 
provocation  you,  as  well  as  others,  have  received  in  the 
ecclesiastical  events  which  have  been  passing  around  us. 
But  nothing  which  has  taken  place  justifies  our  separation 
from  the  One  Church. 

*  There  is  a  fable  in  one  of  our  English  poets,  of  which 
the  moral  is  given  thus : 

'  "  Beware  of  dangerous  steps  ;  the  darkest  day, 
Live  till  to-morrow,  will  have  passed  away." 

'  Let  us  be  patient  ;  the  turn  of  things  may  not  take  place 
in  our  time  ;  but  there  will  be  surely,  sooner  or  later,  an 
energetic  and  a  stern  Nemesis  for  imperious  acts,  such  as 
now  afflict  us. 

'  The  Church  is  the  Mother  of  high  and  low,  of  the  rulers 
as  well  as  of  the  ruled.  Securus  judicat  orbis  terrarwn.  If 
she  declares  by  her  various  voices  that  the  Pope  is  infallible 
in  certain  matters,  in  those  matters  infallible  he  is.  What 
Bishops  and  people  say  all  over  the  earth,  that  is  the  truth, 
whatever  complaint  we  may  have  against  certain  ecclesiastical 
proceedings.  Let  us  not  oppose  ourselves  to  the  universal 
voice. 

*  God  bless  you  and  keep  you. 

'  Yours  affectionately, 

John  H.  Newman.' 

On  the  other  hand,  Newman  for  months  busied  himself  in 
so  explaining  the  definition  to  those  who  consulted  him,  as 
to  show  its  reasonableness,  and  to  distinguish  it  from  the 
extreme  opinions  of  some  of  its  most  zealous  promoters.  He 
wrote  on  the  subject  to  Mrs.  Froude  in  March  1871  : 

*  As  to  your  friend's  question,  certainly  the  Pope  is  not 
infallible  beyond  the  Deposit  of  Faith  originally  given  — 
though  there  is  a  party  of  Catholics  who,  I  suppose  to 
frighten  away  converts,  wish  to  make  out  that  he  is  giving 
forth  infallible  utterances  every  day.  That  the  Immaculate 
Conception  was  in  the  depositum  seems  to  me  clear,  as  soon 
as  it  is  understood  what  the  doctrine  is.  I  have  drawn  out 
the  argument  in  my  "  Letter  to  Dr.  Pusey."  The  Fathers  from 
the  beginning  call  Mary  the  Second  Eve.  This  has  been 
the  dogma  proclaimed  by  the  earliest  Fathers.     There  are 


AFTER  THE   COUNCIL   (1871-1874)  377 

three  especially  witnesses  to  [it]  in  three  or  four  or  five 
countries  widely  separated.  St.  Justin  Martyr  speaks  for 
Syria,  St.  Irenaeus  for  Asia  Minor  and  Gaul,  and  Tertullian 
for  Rome  and  Africa.  Nothing  is  included  in  the  doctrine 
of  the  Immaculate  Conception  which  is  not  included  in  the 
Eve  character  of  Mary — nay,  not  so  much,  for  Eve  in  Paradise 
did  not  need  redemption,  but  Mary  was  actually  redeemed 
by  the  blood  of  her  Son  so  much  as  any  of  us,  and  the  grace 
she  had  was  not  like  Eve's  grace  in  Paradise,  but  simply 
a  purchased  grace. 

'  Certainly  we  all  hold  the  "  Quod  semper,  quod  ubique  " 
&c.,  as  much  as  we  ever  did,  as  much  as  Anglicans  do.  It  is 
a  great  and  general  principle,  involving  of  course  a  certain 
range  of  variation  in  the  fulness  in  which  it  has  been,  here 
and  there,  now  and  then,  received  and  exemplified.  For 
instance,  the  eternal  pre-existence  of  the  Divine  Son  was 
taught  far  more  consistently  after  the  Council  of  Nicaea  in 
A.D.  325,  than  before  it,  and  in  some  cases,  as,  for  instance, 
the  validity  of  baptisms  b)'  heretics,  and  the  like,  there  have 
been  remarkable  differences  of  opinion  ;  but  the  Rule  is  a 
great  and  useful  one  on  the  whole.  There  is  no  rule,  against 
which  exceptions  cannot  be  brought.  As  to  the  question 
of  development  in  the  doctrines  of  the  deposituni,  that  is 
provided  for  in  the  Rule  expressly.  You  know  the  Rule 
comes  from  Vincentius  Lerinensis,  who  wrote  at  the  end 
(I  think)  of  the  4th  century,  and  who  illustrates  and  enforces 
it  with  great  eloquence.  He  says  (I  use  Charles  Marriott's, 
as  I  think  it  is,  translation),  "  Let  the  religion  of  our  souls 
imitate  the  nature  of  our  bodies,  which,  although  with 
process  of  time  they  develop  and  unfold  their  proportions, 
yet  remain  the  same  that  they  were.  The  limits  of  infants 
be  small,  of  young  men  great,  yet  not  diverse,  but  the  same. 
No  new  thing  doth  come  forth  in  old  men,  which  before  had 
not  lain  hid  in  them,  being  children.  The  Christian  doctrine 
must  follow  these  laws  of  increasing,  to  wit,  that  with  years 
it  was  more  sound,  with  time  it  became  more  capable, 
with  continuance  it  became  exalted,  yet  remains  incorrupt 
and  entire.  Lawful  indeed  it  is,  that  those  ancient  articles 
of  heavenly  philosophy  be,  in  process  of  time,  trimmed, 
smoothed  and  polished  ;  unlawful  that  they  be  mangled 
and  maimed.  And,  albeit  they  receive  perspicuity,  light 
and  distinction,  yet  they  necessarily  must  retain  their  fulness, 
and  soundness,  and  propriety.  Keep  the  deposit,  quoth  he, 
O  Timothy,  O  Priest,  O  Teacher  ;  that  which  men  before 
believed  obscurely,  let  them  by  this  exposition  understand 


378  LIFE   OF   CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

more  clearly.  Let  posterity  rejoice  for  coming  to  the  under- 
standing of  that  by  thy  means,  which  antiquity  without 
that  understanding  had  in  veneration,  yet  for  all  this,  in  such 
sort  deliver  the  same  thing  which  thou  hast  learned,  that, 
albeit  thou  teachest  after  a  new  manner,  yet  thou  never  teach 
new  things."  I  have  written  down  not  consecutive  sentences, 
but  as  they  have  caught  my  eye. 

'  As  to  Eugenius  4th's  Letter  to  the  Armenians  about 
the  form  and  matter  of  the  Sacraments,  I  think  it  is  a  diffi- 
culty certainly.  It  is  one  of  those  points,  which  made  me 
earnestly  desire  that  the  definition  should  not  be  made  last 
year  ;  for,  though  it  does  not  weigh  with  me  myself,  yet  it  is 
very  trying  to  a  great  many  people.  It  is  common,  I  think, 
to  say  that  it  was  not  a  doctrinal  decree — but  a  practical 
instruction  to  the  Orientals,  and  therefore  not  included  in  the 
cases,  in  which  infallibility  is  claimed  for  the  Holy  See. 

'John  the  XXII.  is  nothing  to  the  purpose.  He  put 
nothing  forward  in  any  formal  way,  and,  I  think,  repented  of 
his  private  sentiments  before  his  death.  Of  course,  if  he  had 
been  called  upon  to  speak  ex  cathedra,  he  would  (humanly 
speaking)  have  defined  an  error,  but  he  did  not.  And  this 
will  just  illustrate  what  is  meant  by  the  gift  of  infallibility. 
As  Balaam  wished  to  curse,  but  opened  his  mouth  with 
lessings,  so  a  Pope  may  all  his  life  be  in  error,  but  if  he 
attempts  to  put  it  forth,  he  will  be  cut  off,  or  be  deterred,  or 
find  himself  saying  what  he  did  not  mean  to  say. 

'  I  have  no  hesitation  in  saying  that,  to  all  appearance, 
Pius  IX.  wished  to  say  a  great  deal  more  (that  is  that  the 
Council  should  say  a  great  deal  more)  than  it  did,  but  a 
greater  Power  hindered  it.  A  Pope  is  not  inspired  ;  he  has 
not  an  inherent  gift  of  divine  knowledge.  When  he  speaks 
ex  cathedra,  he  may  say  little  or  much,  but  he  is  simply 
protected  from  saying  what  is  untrue.  I  know  you  will  find 
flatterers  and  partizans,  such  as  those  whom  St.  Francis  de 
Sales  calls  "  the  Pope's  lackies,"  who  say  much  more  than  this, 
but  they  may  enjoy  their  own  opinions,  they  cannot  bind  the 
faith  of  Catholics. 

'  As  to  St.  Cyprian's  quarrel  with  the  Pope,  strong  letters 
came  from  the  Pope  to  him.  He  certainly  did  not  think  the 
Pope  infallible  in  those  letters.  I  cannot  tell  without  hunting 
them  up,  whether  they  look  like  ex  cathedra  letters.  I  should 
think  not.  I  doubt  very  much  whether  the  point  of  the 
Infallibility  of  the  Pope  was  clearly  understood,  as  a  dogma, 
by  the  Popes  themselves  at  that  time  ;  but  then  I  also  doubt 
whether  the  Infallibility  of  a  General  Council  was  at  that  time 


AFTER  THE   COUNCIL   (1871-1874)  379 

understood  either,  for  no  General  Council  as  yet  had  been. 
The  subject  was  what  Vincentius  calls  "  obscurely  held."  The 
Popes  acted  as  if  they  were  infallible  in  doctrine — with  a 
very  high  hand,  peremptorily,  magisterially,  fiercely.  But, 
when  we  come  to  the  question  o(  the  ana/yst's  of  such  conduct, 
I  think  they  had  as  vague  ideas  on  the  subject  as  many  of  the 
early  Fathers  had  upon  portions  of  the  doctrine  of  the  Holy 
Trinity.  T/iey  acted  in  a  way  whidi  needed  infallibility  as  its 
explanation.^ 

While  he  held  that  the  newly  defined  dogma  had  its  roots 
in  the  past,  he  looked  to  the  future  for  a  formal  disclaimer  of 
exaggerated  interpretations  of  its  scope.  On  this  subject  he 
wrote  to  Miss  Holmes  on  May  15,  1871  : 

'As  to  the  definition,  I  grieve  you  should  have  been 
tried  with  it.  The  dogma  has  been  acted  on  by  the  Holy 
See  for  centuries — the  only  difference  is  that  now  it  is 
actually  recognised.  I  know  this  is  a  difference — for  at  first 
sight  it  would  seem  to  invite  the  Pope  to  use  his  now 
recognised  power.  But  we  must  have  a  little  faith.  Abstract 
propositions  avail  little — theology  surrounds  them  with  a 
variety  of  limitations,  explanations,  etc.  No  truth  stands 
by  itself — each  is  kept  in  order  and  harmonized  by  other 
truths.  The  dogmas  relative  to  the  Holy  Trinity  and  the 
Incarnation  were  not  struck  off  all  at  once — but  piecemeal — 
one  Council  did  one  thing,  another  a  second — and  so  the 
whole  dogma  was  built  up.  And  the  first  portion  of  it 
looked  extreme — and  controversies  rose  upon  it — and  these 
controversies  led  to  the  second,  and  third  Councils,  and  they 
did  not  reverse  the  first,  but  explai?ted  and  co)npleted  what 
was  first  done.  So  will  it  be  now.  P"uture  Popes  will 
explain  and  in  one  sense  limit  their  own  power.  This  would 
be  unlikely,  if  they  merely  acted  as  men,  but  God  will  over- 
rule them.  Pius  has  been  overruled— I  believe  he  wished 
a  much  more  stringent  dogma  than  he  has  got.  Let  us 
have  faith  and  patience.'  ^ 

Dollinger's  action  he  condemned  unequivocally,  though 
he  felt  for  the  German  historian  acutely. 

'  I  know  nothing  of  the  German  party,'  he  wrote  (October 
1 871)  to  Mrs.  Froude.  '  Doubtless  there  are  many  good  reli- 
gious people  who  agree  with  DoUinger— but  I  much  suspect 
they  are  all  private  persons,  of  the  Upper  Middle  or  higher 
ranks,  and  I  suspect  that  he,  as  a  public  man,  is  by  himself. 

'  Some  more  letters  on  this  subject  will  be  found  in  the  Appendix  at  p.  556. 


38o  LIFE   OF  CARDINAL  NEWMAN 

*  It  is  a  most  cruel  position  both  for  him  and  them.  They 
seem  to  me  powerless.  The  bulk  of  the  lower  class  people 
(Catholics)  follow  the  Pope.  The  Professors  and  literary  men 
go  much  further  than  DoUinger— they  cither  are  for  a  schism 
or  for  simple  indifferentism.  I  don't  sec  how  he  can  keep  his 
ground,  or,  if  he  does,  will  have  more  than  a  handful  with 
him.' 

The  fall  of  the  Papal  sovereignty  in  Rome  afforded 
matter  for  reflection,  and  Newman  intimated  his  view  of  the 
past  and  the  future  in  another  letter  to  Mrs.  Froude. 

'  As  little  as  possible,'  he  writes, '  was  passed  at  the  Council 
— nothing  about  the  Pope  which  I  have  not  myself  always 
held.  But  it  is  impossible  to  deny  that  it  was  done  with  an 
imperiousness  and  overbearing  wilfulness,  which  has  been  a 
great  scandal — and  I  cannot  think  thunder  and  lightning  a 
mark  of  approbation,  as  some  persons  wish  to  make  out, 
and  the  sudden  destruction  of  the  Pope's  temporal  power 
does  not  seem  a  sign  of  approval  either.  It  suggests  too  the 
thought,  that  to  be  at  once  infallible  in  religion  and  a  despot 
in  temporals,  is  perhaps  too  great  for  mortal  man.  Very 
likely  there  will  be  some  reaction  for  a  time  in  his  favour, 
but  not  permanently— and  then,  unless  the  Council,  when 
re-assembled,  qualifies  the  dogma  by  some  considerable  safe- 
guards, which  is  not  unlikely,  perhaps  the  secularly  defence- 
less state  of  the  Pope  will  oblige  him  to  court  the  Catholic 
body  in  its  separate  nations  with  a  considerateness  and 
kindness,  which  of  late  years  the  Holy  See  has  not  shown, 
and  which  may  effectually  prevent  a  tyrannous  use  of  his 
spiritual  power.  But  all  these  things  are  in  God's  hands 
and  we  are  blind.' 

Newman's  work  from  1871  to  1874  was  mainly  the 
revision  of  his  writings — including  those  published  while  he 
was  still  an  Anglican,  to  which  he  added  notes  and  appendices 
which  supplied  what  he  considered  necessary  to  make  them 
orthodox,  or  to  answer  the  criticisms  on  the  Catholic  Church 
which  they  contained.  Much  of  this  work  was  done  at 
Rednal,  and  he  rejoiced  in  the  interludes  of  country  life  thus 
afforded  him. 

His  Journal  shows  that  he  had  at  this  time  some  recur- 
rence of  the  feeling  that  Catholics  looked  at  him  askance 
owing  to  his  opposition  to  the  Vatican  definition.  On  the 
other  hand  he    notes    that   he  is  far  more  read  and  better 


AFTER   THE   COUNCIL   (1871-1874)  381 

understood  among  Anglicans  than  of  old.  This  led  him  per- 
haps to  cleave  more  closely  to  such  old  Anglican  friends  as 
R.  W.  Church  and  Sir  Frederick  Rogers,  with  whom  he  kept 
up  a  constant  correspondence. 

In  February  1871  Rogers  lost  his  mother,  and  Newman 
wrote  to  sympathise.  His  letter  is  printed  below,  together 
with  his  reply  to  an  announcement  by  Rogers  some  months 
later  that  he  was  going  to  visit  Rome  in  the  course  of  a 
summer  holiday. 

To  Sir  Frederick  Rogers. 

'The  Oratory:  Feb.  18,  1871. 

'  My  dear  Rogers, — I  guessed  the  sad  intelligence  of  your 
letter  from  its  outside.  Some  one  told  me,  I  think  Wilson, 
that  your  dear  mother  was  sinking  gradually.  One  can  but 
once  lose  a  mother.  I  don't  forget,  I  never  have,  how  kind 
you  were  to  me  when  I  lost  mine.  How  many  years  have 
passed,  how  many  events,  since  then,  but  it  seems  to  me  like 
yesterday.  What  a  dream  life  is  !  It  does  not  make  it  a  less 
sorrow  to  you  that  you  must  have  all  expected  it  so  long. 
The  freshness  of  her  mind  and  the  continuance  of  her  strength, 
for  so  long,  which  will  be  so  pleasant  to  look  back  upon, 
perhaps  have  made  the  gradual  changes  of  the  last  year  more 
sad  to  your  sisters.  I  hope  to  say  Mass  for  her  on  Monday 
morning. 

'  You  know  that  on  Tuesday  I  am  70.  By  fits  and  starts 
I  realise  it  ;  but  usually  it  seems  incredible  to  me. 

'  Ever  yours  affectionately, 

John  H.  Newman.' 

'  The  Oratory  :  Aug.  i,  1871. 

*  My  dear  Rogers, — I  am  glad  you  are  going  abroad,  and 
hope  you  will  be  as  much  delighted  and  refreshed  by  the 
beauties  of  Italy,  as  you  were  the  first  time  you  saw  it.  Also, 
it  is  pleasant  to  think  that  you  and  your  wife  will  have  a 
quiet  month  with  your  sisters  at  Lucerne.  I  say  "  quiet,"  for 
such,  I  think.  Lucerne  is  especially,  with  its  broad  silent  lake, 
and  its  graceful  mountains  on  cither  side,  neither  of  them 
frightening  one's  eyes  with  snowy  peaks. 

'  There  is  one  thing  I  want  to  ask  you  before  you 
go.  I  want  to  ask  your  brother's  acceptance  of  my  new 
edition  of  "  The  Arians,"  the  brother  who  was  so  kind  as  to 
go  to  the  British  Museum  for  "One  Tract  more" — But 
I  have  got  into  a  puzzle  whether  it  is  Edward  or  John. 
I  thought  it  was  the  one  I  knew  at  Oxford,  the  Clergyman. 


382  LIFE   OF  CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

'  I  know  no  one,  I  have  no  acquaintance  whatever,  at 
Rome.  No  wonder — Rome  changes  its  (ecclesiastical)  inmates 
as  much  as  Oxford  does,  where  three  years  is  an  under- 
graduate's life,  and  seven  years  a  Fellow's.  Besides  I  have 
not  been  there  for  more  than  23  years,  except  once  (in  1855-6) 
for  a  fortnight.  Moreover,  just  now,  I  suppose,  everything  is 
topsy  turvy  and  nobody  is  anywhere. 

*  Thank  you  for  your  offer  of  fetching  and  carrying  for 
me  thither  or  thence — but  I  can  think  of  nothing,  even  if 
I  try. 

'  I  wonder  what  you  will  be  able  to  prophesy  about  the 
future  of  the  city.  That  in  this  generation  the  Pope  and  the 
Italian  power  cannot  get  on  together,  I  should  have  thought 
certain.  Perhaps  before  the  future  comes,  there  will  be  fresh 
revolutions  one  way  or  the  other,  which  make  present  con- 
jecture impossible,  as  destroying  present  data. 

'  Ever  yours  affectionately, 

John  H.  Newman. 

*  P.S. — I  congratulate  you  on  your  new  "  Honours,"  ' 

These   last   words    refer  to  the  peerage  which  Rogers  had 
just  been  offered  and  accepted. 

Both  Rogers  and  R.  W.  Church  at  this  time  received 
promotion  from  Mr.  Gladstone's  Government — the  one  being 
raised  to  the  House  of  Lords  with  the  title  of  Lord  Blachford, 
the  other  named  Dean  of  St.  Paul's.  There  is  in  Newman's 
incidental  references  to  these  honours — in  his  letters  to 
Rogers — ^just  a  touch  of  that  unsympathetic  attitude  towards 
official  rank  which  was  so  general  in  the  old  Tractarian 
party  ;  and  it  must  be  remembered  that  this  was  also  the 
tradition  of  the  Oratorians,  who  were  restrained  by  rule 
from  accepting  ecclesiastical  dignities  except  by  command  of 
the  Pontiff 

'  The  Oratory  :  Dec.  3,  1 871. 

'  My  dear  Rogers, — I  cannot  screw  myself  up  yet  to  call 
you  anything  else.  Give  me  time.  However  I  most  heartily 
congratulate  you  on  your  title,  and  it  is  a  shame  to  say  it 
takes  away  my  breath,  for  you  have  done  more  to  deserve  it 
than  all  but  a  few  who  gain  it,  and  it  is  particularly  gratifying 
that  you  should  be  the  first  to  open  what  is  a  new  path  to 
the  highest  honours  that  the  State  can  give. 

'  To  my  mind  the  only  drawback  is  that  your  mother  did 
not  live  just  long  enough  to  witness  it.     She  always  seqmed 


AFTER   THE   COUNCIL   (1871-1874)  383 

to  me  to  live  in  the  desire  that  you  should  have  full  justice 
done  you  in  the  world,  and  I  think  she  would  have  allowed 
that  her  desire  was  now  granted  her.  .  .  . 

'  Ever  yours  affly, 

J.  H.  Newman.' 

Of  Church's  promotion  he  wrote  thus  to  Lord  Blachford  : 

'June  14,  72. 
'  I  don't  and  didn't  doubt  at  all  that  Church  would  do  the 
Dean  well.  I  was  marvelling  at  him  two  years  ago  at  the 
Frome  Station,  at  his  dealings  with  the  railway  porters  about 
my  luggage— he  showed  such  quiet  calm  decision — but  I 
want  him  to  write  more  than  he  can  at  St.  Paul's — (though 
Milman  did  write  there) — and  therefore  I  am  sorry  he  is  not 
at  Winton  or  Salisbury  or  the  like.  And  I  grieve  at  dignities 
which  have  a  tendency  to  rub  off  the  bloom  of  the  peach, 
which  a  country  life  preserves,  and  which  London  life,  which 
the  dome  of  St.  Paul's,  which  the  mirata  laquearia  of  the 
House  of  Lords,  destroy.  I  suppose  it  is  in  the  nature  of 
things  that  blushing  honours  are  the  death  of  blushing. 
I  know  that  high  ecclesiastics,  too,  may  have  donnishness  as 
others — also  I  know  and  understand  that  age  has  a  gravity 
and  dignity  of  its  own,  and  that  even  the  stiffness  of  joints 
and  the  dimness  of  the  senses  induce  a  dull  and  unlovely 
soberness  of  manner  in  country  people  also,  and  I  know  too 
that  my  own  ingrained  contemptible  shyness  makes  me 
irritable  at  the  sight  of  self-possession — but  still  after  all  I 
have  an  animosity  and  antipathy  to  the  effect  of  London 
on  the  character,  which  is  almost  a  moral  sense  with  me.' 

'  I  hope,'  he  writes  to  Church  himself,  'you  are  not  suffer- 
ing from  your  banquetings.  I  sincerely  feel  for  you.  They 
would,  I  think,  kill  me.'  A  year  earlier  Newman  had  dedi- 
cated to  Rogers  his  republished  '  Essays  on  Miracles,'  and  now 
he  was  sending  each  fresh  volume  as  it  was  published  to  his 
more  intimate  acquaintance.  In  1872  he  republished  '  Present 
Position  of  Catholics '  and  sent  a  copy  to  R.  W.  Church. 
They  exchanged  letters,  and  Church  pressed  Newman  to  come 
and  see  him  at  the  Deanery.  Newman  in  return  urged  both 
the  Dean  and  Rogers  to  come  for  a  day  or  night  to  Rednal. 

To  Dean  Church. 

'  The  Oratory  :  June  7,  1872. 

'  I  never  come  to  Town  except  under  dire  necessity,  for 
many  reasons — because  it  is  sure  to  knock  me  up  from  the 


384  LIFE   OF   CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

mere  "  fumus  strepitusque  "  of  London — because  there  are  so 
many  persons  I  am  simply  obliged,  both  by  propriety  and 
by  friendship,  by  duty  and  by  true  attachment,  to  call 
upon — because  I  am  sure  to  make  a  fool  of  myself,  being  so 
shy,  and  go  away  gnawing  my  heart  at  the  thought  of  the 
many  gaucheries  and  absurdities  I  have  committed. 

'  I  had  thought  of  coming  to  you  for  a  day  or  two  at  the 
beginning  of  June  ;  but  now  I  have  got  to  go  to  Rednal 
with  a  host  of  papers,  which  occupy  five  baskets,  tin  cases 
and  bags,  and  which  will  take  me  weeks.  .  .  . 

'  I  suppose  you  never  could  run  down  here  for  a  night,  if 
the  weather  becomes  summerly.  I  would  take  you  over  to 
Rednal  for  an  hour  or  two.' 

A  week  later  he  writes  from  Rednal  to  Lord  Blachford 
urging  him  to  accompany  Church  and  spend  a  '  happy  day ' 
at  the  Oratory. 

But  Church  was  on  the  point  of  leaving  England  for  a 
holiday,  and  a  visit  to  Rednal  was  anyhow  at  the  moment 
difficult.  Still  the  idea  was  not  abandoned.  Newman's 
letters  on  the  subject  have  something  of  the  minuteness 
and  anxiety  which  we  have  noted  in  those  which  prepared  the 
way  for  the  visit  to  Keble  at  Hursley  seven  years  earlier. 

A  visit  from  Newman  to  the  Deanery  at  St.  Paul's  did 
come  off  before  Church  left  England  ;  and  a  visit  to  Lord 
Blachford's  house  in  London  was  arranged  for  July. 

Newman,  still  feeling  acutely  the  events  of  the  Vatican 
Council  and  the  sadness  of  the  estrangements  to  which  it  led, 
welcomed  Blachford's  proposal  that  he  should  on  the  occasion 
of  his  visit  meet  Lord  Acton  at  dinner. 

'The  Oratory  :  July  6th,  1872. 

'  My  dear  sive  Blachford  malueris  vocari  sive  Rogers, 
may  I  not  thus  accost  you,  as  Horace  would  accost  platte 
presenteni  Deum  ?  I  shall  be  most  happy  to  meet  at  dinner 
anyone  you  please,  especially  Lord  Acton — but  I  suppose 
Monday  morning  when  you  get  this  will  be  late  for  an  invite. 
I  have  had  the  greatest  liking  for  Acton  ever  since  I  knew 
him  near  20  years  ago ;  but,  alas,  we  have  never  quite  hit 
it  off  in  action.  And  now  I  don't  know  where  he  stands  as 
regards  this  sad  Vatican  question.  There  is  only  one  /oc?/s 
standi — and  I  think  in  time  he  will  see  that ;  but  mind  I  shall 
rejoice  to  meet  him — So  should  I  to  meet  Liddon,  whom  I 
don't  know — I  believe  he  is  a  champion  for  dogma,  which  is 


AFTER  THE   COUNCIL   (1871-1874)  385 

the  backbone  of  religion,  and,  as  such,  I  wish  him  God-speed 
in  this  evil  day. 

'  My  love  to  Church — I  rejoice  I  shall  not  be  too  late  for 

him. 

*  Ever  yours  affectionately, 

John  H.  Newman.' 

Newman  read  in  this  year  with  great  interest  and  admira- 
tion Dean  Church's  '  Gifts  of  Civilisation,'  especially  the  part 
which  dealt  with  his  own  favourite  subject,  the  Christianising 
of  the  Roman  Empire.^  In  return  for  the  'Gifts  of  Civilisa- 
tion '  he  sent  Church  the  '  Grammar  of  Assent,'  hoping  that  it 
would  not  '  bore  him  ' — an  expression  to  which  naturally  the 
Dean  in  his  letter  of  thanks  demurred,  forwarding  to  him  at 
the  same  time  the  following  paragraph  from  a  Somersetshire 
paper  with  inquiries  as  to  the  truth  of  its  contents  : 

'  ST.  PAUL'S  CATHEDRAL.  A  few  weeks  since  one  of  the 
vergers  of  the  Cathedral  accosted  a  poorly  clad,  threadbare 
looking  individual  who  stood  scanning  the  alterations  of  the 
sacred  edifice  with  "  Now  then  move  on,  we  don't  want  any 
of  your  sort  here  !  "     It  was  Dr.  Newman  ! ' 

Newman  confessed  the  substantial  accuracy  of  the  para- 
graph : 

'  St.  Stephen's  day,  1872. 
*  My  dear  Dean, — .  .  .  Yes,  I  was  morally  turned  out  and 
I  told  you  at  the  time.  I  did  nothing  but  what  you  might 
have  done  at  Chester  or  Carlisle,  where  you  might  not  be 
known.  I  stood  just  inside  the  doors  listening  to  the 
chanting  of  the  Psalms,  of  which  I  am  so  fond.  First  came 
Verger  one,  a  respectable  person,  inquiring  if  I  wanted  a  seat 

'  He  had  already  written  an   important  letter  on  another   line  of  thought, 
touched  on  by  its  author  in  this  volume  and  in  a  sermon : 

'  You  indirectly  touch  upon  what  is  so  wonderful,'  he  wrote,  '  and  which  men 
ought  to  consider  more  than  they  do,  our  Lord's  clear  announcement  of  what  His 
religion  was  to  do,  and  what  it  was  not.  It  was  to  be  a  light  upon  a  hill — it  was 
to  be  a  leaven — but  it  was  to  gather  of  every  kind  —it  was  to  be  the  occasion  of 
great  scandals — it  was  to  be  a  cause  of  discord— but  it  was  never  to  fail ;  and  so 
on.  Put  the  gospels  as  late  as  the  Antonines  (for  argument's  sake),  you  cannot 
destroy  the  prophecy.  Even  if  these  were  its  realized  initial  characters  before 
the  gospels  were  written,  yet  how  is  it  they  continue  to  be  such  to  this  day? 
And  so  about  the  Old  Testament,  I  want  to  see  Davison's  line  of  argument 
applied  on  a  large  scale  to  its  books.  There  is  an  orderly  growth  of  revelation, 
and  a  structure  in  the  prophecies.  Can  any  one  believe  that  the  books  were  all 
written  after  Ezra,  or  great  part  of  them,  so  as  to  exhibit  the  scheme  of  progress 
intentionally  ?  How  is  it,  for  instance,  we  do  not  find  the  doctrine  of  a  future 
life  in  the  Pentateuch,  if  it  was  garbled,  interpolated,  enlarged,  at  a  late  date?  ' 

VOL.  n.  c  c 


386  LIFE   OF   CARDINAL  NEWMAN 

in  the  choir,  half  a  mile  off  me.  No,  I  said, — I  was  content 
where  I  was.  Then  came  a  second,  not  respectful,  with  a 
voice  of  menace — I  still  said  No.  Then  came  a  third,  I  don't 
recollect  much  about  him,  except  that  he  said  he  could 
provide  me  with  a  seat.  Then  came  No.  2  again  in  a 
compulsory  mood,  on  which  I  vanished. 

'  I  am  sure  if  I  was  a  dissenter,  or  again  one  of  Mr. 
Bradlaugh's  people,  nothing  would  attract  me  more  to  the 
Church  of  England  than  to  be  allowed  to  stand  at  the  door 
of  a  Cathedral — did  not  St.  Augustine,  while  yet  a  Manichee, 
stand  and  watch  St.  Ambrose?  no  verger  turned  him  out. 

'  Of  course,  knowing  the  nature  of  those  men,  I  was 
amused,  and  told  you  and  Blachford  in  the  evening.  You 
were  annoyed,  and  said  it  was  just  what  you  did  tiot  wish, 
and  that  you  would  inquire  about  it. 

'  I  have  not  a  dream  how  it  got  into  the  Papers— as  mine 
is  a  Somersetshire  one,  I  thought  the  paragraph  had  trickled 
out  from  Whatley. 

'  Ever  yrs  affly, 

J.  H.  N. 

'  All  Xmas  blessings  to  you  and  yours.' 

But  the  paragraph  in  the  Somersetshire  paper,  while 
relating  a  fact  which  was  substantially  true,  had  spoken  of 
Newman's  costume  as  '  threadbare.'  This  serious  inaccuracy 
he  corrected  with  some  emphasis  in  a  subsequent  letter  : 

'  Dec.  28,  72. 

'  My  dear  Dean, — On  the  contrary,  it  was  simply  a  bran 
new  coat,  which  I  never  put  on  till  I  went  on  that  visit  to 
you — and  which  I  did  not  wear  twice  even  at  Abbotsford — 1 
thought  it  due  to  London.  Indeed,  all  my  visiting  clothes 
are  new,  for  I  do  not  wear  them  here,  and  I  am  almost 
tempted,  like  a  footman  of  my  Father's  when  I  was  a  boy, 
who  had  a  legacy  of  clothes,  to  leave  home,  as  he  his  place, 
in  order  to  have  an  opportunity  of  wearing  them.  They  (the 
clothes)  must  wish  it,  I  am  sure — for  they  wear  out  a  weary 
time  themselves  in  a  dark  closet,  except  on  such  occasions, 
few  and  far  between. 

*  Don't  fancy  when  I  talked  of  a  "  bore,"  that  I  had  any  other 
than  that  general  feeling,  which  I  ever  have,  that  giving  away 
one  of  my  books  is  an  impertinence,  like  talking  of  the  shop. 
I  used  to  say  at  Oxford  that  lawyers  and  doctors  ever  talked 
of  the  shop — but  parsons  never — now  I  find  priests  do — I 
suppose  that,  where  there  is  science,  there  is  the  tendency  to 


AFTER  THE   COUNCIL   (1871-1874)  387 

be  wrapped  up  in  the  profession.  An  English  clergx^man  is 
primarily  a  gentleman^a  doctor,  a  lawyer,  and  so  a  priest  is 
primarily  a  professional  man.  In  like  manner  the  military 
calling  has  been  abroad  a  profession,  accordingly  they  never 
go  in  mufti,  but  always  in  full  military  fig,  talking  as  it  were, 
always  of  the  shop.  Now  I  have  a  great  dislike  of  this 
shoppism  personally.  Richmond  told  some  one  that,  when 
he  took  my  portrait,  I  was  the  only  person  he  could  not  draw 
out. 

'  Now  have  I  not  really  been  talking  of  the  shop  enough 
for  a  whole  twelvemonth,  having  talked  of  my  dear  self?  Rut 
you  see  I  have  a  motive — viz.  lest  you  should  dream  you 
have  trod  on  my  toes,  and  so  elicited  from  me  the  complaint 
that  you  have  been  bored  by  me. 

'  Ever  yrs  afifly, 

John  H.  Newman.' 

From  the  middle  of  1872  onwards  began  in  earnest  for 
Newman  the  great  trial  of  those  who  live  to  be  old — the 
death  of  friends,  many  of  them  dear  and  lifelong  friends. 
His  letters  are  full  of  the  sad  thoughts  which  such  partings 
brought.  Death  visited  the  Dominican  Sisterhood  at  Stone 
in  the  spring.  Amelia  Mozley  went  in  August,  John  Mozley 
in  October,  and  Hope-Scott's  illness  was  soon  after 
pronounced  to  be  mortal.  Serjeant  Bellasis  died  at  the 
beginning  of  1873,  Henry  Wilberforce  followed,  and  then 
Hope-Scott  died.  Another  great  friend,  the  Duchess  of 
Argyll,  passed  away  a  little  later.  Newman  was  in  constant 
dread  that  others  would  follow,  and  the  renewed  illness  of 
Pusey  and  Church  led  to  anxious  inquiries.  '  What  a  year  this 
has  been  of  deaths,'  he  wrote  to  Sister  Mary  Gabriel  on  his 
own  patron's  feast,  St.  John's  Day,  1873  :  'The  shafts  have 
been  flying  incessantly  and  unexpectedly  on  all  sides  of  us 
and  strewing  the  ground  with  friends.  It  makes  one  under- 
stand St.  John's  dreary  penance  in  living  to  be  90.  Well 
might  he  say  :  "  Amen,  veni  Domino  Jesu."' 

The  loss  of  his  Mozley  relations  recalled  the  dear  asso- 
ciations of  early  home  life  to  which  he  clung  so  closely ; 
while  the  death  of  his  tried  and  faithful  friends  struck  him 
no  less  hard! 

In  the  course  of  letters  at  this  time  we  find  the  record  of 

these  losses. 

c  c  2 


388  LIFE   OF  CARDINAL  NEWMAN 

To  Sister  Mary  Gabriel. 

'  Easter  Monday  1872. 

'  I  grieve  indeed  at  your  news.  I  said  Mass  for  dear 
Sister  Mary  Agnes  this  morning,  and  propose  to  do  so  every 
week.  I  am  sure  I  owe  a  great  deal  to  her  prayers,  and  am 
very  grateful  to  her. 

*  I  cannot  grieve  for  her.  She  is  going  to  the  reward 
of  her  long  service  to  our  dear  Lord  and  His  Blessed 
Mother.  She  is  going  to  the  company  of  those  great 
Saints,  whose  traditions  and  whose  work  she  has  done  her 
part,  with  such  loyal  fidelity,  to  uphold  and  continue  in  this 
her  day. 

'  Of  course  it  is  for  all  of  you  that  we  must  feel.  And 
we  feel  it  the  more  from  that  sympathy  which  arises  from 
our  own  prospective  anxieties.  Not  indeed,  God  be  praised, 
that  we  have  any  immediate  cause  of  anxiety  here  ;  but  so 
many  of  us  are  getting  old,  that  one  is  tempted  to  ask 
"  O  Lord,  how  long  ?  "  How  long  are  we  to  enjoy  that  calm 
and  happy  time  which  Thou  hast  granted  us  so  long?  When 
is  it  to  be,  that  that  tranquil  unity  is  to  be  broken  up  which 
we  have  so  long  enjoyed,  and  we  are  to  be  parted  one  from 
another  till  that  day,  if  we  are  vouchsafed  it,  when  we  meet 
again  never  to  be  separated  in  the  Kingdom  of  our  Father } 
As  we  suffer  with  you  now,  do  not  forget  us  when  our  time 
comes.' 

'  So  dear  Amelia  Mozley  is  gone,'  he  writes  to  Dean 
Church  on  August  22.     '  I  knew  her  from  her  birth.' 

To  Blachford,  the  intimate  friend  of  Hope-Scott,  he 
communicated  the  sad  tidings  of  his  breaking  health  : 

'The  Oratory:  Nov.  4th,  1872, 
'My    dear   Blachford, —  I    sent    to    you    a    message    by 
Church,  in  case  he  wrote  to  you,  about  Hope-Scott.  .  .  . 

'  I  suppose,  humanly  speaking,  he  is  at  what  is  called  the 
beginning  of  the  end,  though  the  time  may  be  sooner  or 
later.  .  .  .  He  has  never  held  up  his  head  since  his  wife  died. 
When  I  saw  him  here  last  spring,  16  months  after  his  loss, 
he  could  not  command  his  feelings— and  there  is  no  doubt 
that  it  was  his  distress  that  developed  his  complaint.  His 
little  boy  is  not  two  years  old. 

'  You  know  my  sister  has  lost  her  husband  ;  after  16 
years  of  happy  uneventful  married  life — after  his  five  sons 
have  started  in  life — and  with  a  painless  gradual  decay. 
How  different  are  our  fortunes — what  a  contrast  is  this  to 


AFTER  THE   COUNCIL   (1871-1874)  389 

Hope-Scott's    career,  so  brilliant   externally,  yet  with   such 
domestic  affliction. 

'  Yours  affectionately, 

John  H.  Newman.' 

The  new  edition  of  the  University  Sermons,  with  its  dedi- 
cation to  Dean  Church,  appeared  early  in  1873. 

'  The  Oratory:  Jany.  29,  1873. 

'  My  dear  Dean, — Will  you  look  at  the  Dedication  in  the 
inclosed  pages,  and,  if  I  have  worded  it  rightly,  send  them  on 
as  directed. 

'  I  felt  your  kindness  in  informing  me  about  Pusey.  The 
latest  and  best  news  is  very  anxious.  It  is  now  more  than 
forty  years  since  he  lay  in  bed  and  could  not  speak,  and  I 
advised  Mrs.  Pusey  to  send  for  Dr.  Wootten,  who  brought 
him  round.  .  .  . 

'  Serjeant  Bellasis  has  been  taken  from  us.  He  was  one 
of  the  sweetest-tempered,  gentlest,  most  affectionate  persons 

I  ever  knew. 

'  Ever  yours  affly, 

John  H.  Newman.' 

To  Lord  Blachford. 

'The  Oratory:  April  2ist,  1873. 

*  Before  you  receive  this,  I  suppose  dear  H.  Wilberforce 
will  have  left  us.  I  went  over  to  see  him  3  weeks  ago.  It  is 
well  I  did  not  wait  till  after  Easter,  as  at  one  time  I  thought 
of  doing.  I  found  him  looking  like  a  man  of  80,  and  so 
unlike  himself,  and  so  like  his  father,  that  I  did  not  know  how 
to  speak  to  him,  when  I  first  saw  him.  His  mind  was  quite 
his  own,  but  he  slept  a  good  deal — he  had  very  little  pain. 
I  took  leave  of  him,  as  if  for  good,  as  it  will  be.' 

To  Dean  Church. 

'The  Oratory  :  May  2,  1873. 

'  My  dear  Dean, — Thank  you  for  your  kind  considerate- 
ness.  When  I  got  back  from  H.  W.'s  funeral,  I  found  a 
telegram  telling  me  that  Hope- Scott  was  just  gone.  He 
went,  just  as  I  was  getting  into  the  train  at  Woodchester  to 
return  home,  7  P.M. 

'  He  had  fallen  off  a  day  or  two  before — but  at  last  he 
took  every  one  by  surprise.  He  had  blessed  his  daughter 
and  sent  her  away  for  the  night — but  at  the  end  of  the  hour, 
she  returned  to  witness  his  death. 


390  LIFE   OF   CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

'There  were  to  be  great  doings  at  Arundel  Castle.  He 
had  lingered  so  long,  that  the  Duke  had  fixed  the  Wednes- 
day (April  30)  for  the  opening  of  his  new  Church  there, 
which  is  said  to  be  the  finest  in  the  kingdom.  A  large  party 
had  assembled  the  evening  before,  and  were  just  sitting 
down  to  dinner,  when  a  telegram  came,  which  caused  the 
Duke,  his  mother,  his  sisters,  and  the  children  all  to  go  to 
town  at  once.  They  were  too  late.  He  died  just  as  they 
started.  To  the  Duchess  this  was  especially  trying.  The 
doctors  had  not  allowed  her  to  see  him,  it  so  affected  his 
heart — so  he  died  without  taking  leave  of  her.  I  don't  know 
ivhen  they  had  met — perhaps  not  for  months.  Lord  Howard 
was  left  to  receive  and  to  despatch  the  guests  at  the  Castle. 
It  was  to  have  been  a  great  event.  [The  Duke]  has  spent 
great  sums  upon  the  Church— and  it  is  to  be  dedicated  to 
St.  Philip  Neri.  He  had  asked  me  to  preach  the  Sermon — 
but,  though  I  had  declined,  some  of  our  party  were  there. 

'  [Hope-Scott's]  daughter  .  .  .  tells  me  that,  after  death 
till  the  time  she  wrote,  he  looked  most  beautiful,  just  (she  is 
told)  as  he  used  to  look  thirty  years  ago. 

'  She  adds  "  He  loved  you  so."  I  know  he  did,  and  I 
loved  him.  His  death  was  most  "  peaceful  and  calm."  So 
was  H.  Wilberforce's — so  was  Bellasis',  as  sunny  as  his  life. 
May  I  be  as  prepared  as  they  when  my  time  comes. 

'  Ever  yrs  affly, 

John  H.  Newman.' 

To  Lord  Blachford. 

'  The  Oratory  :  May  25,  1873. 

'  It  is  very  kind  in  you  to  write  to  me  about  Church.  A 
paragraph  in  the  paper  startled  me,  and  I  was  on  the  point 
of  writing  to  Mrs.  Church  to  ask  about  its  meaning.  The 
worst  penance  of  men  in  office  or  station,  is  that  they  cannot 
nurse,  but  must  be  taking  part  in  meetings  and  at  dinners, 
when  they  ought  to  keep  at  home.  I  dare  say  this  has  been 
Church's  case. 

'  It  is  almost  like  an  Epicurean  in  me  to  feel  thankful  for 
my  own  freedom  from  such  troubles. 

'  Also  I  thank  you  for  your  kind  sympathy.  These 
successive  losses  have  been,  and  are,  a  great  trial  to  me — but 
they  are  the  necessary  penalty  of  living  long.  Scripture 
says  David  died  "  at  a  good  old  age  "  and  I  used  even  to 
think  so.  But  now  it  comes  upon  me  that  after  all  he  was 
only  70,  and  that  that  is  the  "  age  of  man  " — and  I  am  two 
years  beyond  it.' 


AFTER  THE   COUNCIL   (1871-1874)  391 

To  Dean  Church. 

'  The  Oratory  :  March  6,  1874. 

'  As  for  my  personal  friends  I  never  have  had  such  a  time 
for  losses,  ever  since  my  brother-in-law  died.  Deer.  i,Jany.  i, 
Feb.  I  each  was  marked  with  the  death  of  an  intimate  friend, 
close  to  us,  and  of  20  years  intimacy,  prematurely  and  un- 
expectedly. And  now  the  Duchess  of  Argyll  is  gone,  not 
prematurely  nor  unexpectedly,  but  she  was  an  intimate  friend, 
and  always  spoke  of  her  being  of  the  same  age  as  myself — 
and  now  VVoodgate,  an  aequalis,  is  ill  too,  and  will  never  get 
well — (this  ought  not  to  be  repeated) — I  went  to  take  leave 
of  him  about  a  fortnight  ago. 

'I  am  quite  well  myself; — which  is  the  sadder,  to  die 
before,  or  to  live  after,  one's  friends  '}  The  latter  is  the  sadder, 
but  it  is  very  sad  too  not  to  know  the  fortunes  in  time  to 
come  of  those  you  leave  behind.  For  instance,  Woodgate 
has  ten  children — hardly  one  of  them  seems  to  me  settled  in 
life  ;  but  I  don't  know  much  about  his  sons.  One  of  them  is 
in  the  Gold  Coast  War — I  saw  him  here  last  September  with 
his  family  at  the  Triennial  Music  Meeting — what  a  contrast 
— woods,  savages,  bivouacs  &  fevers  in  January,  and  a 
country  parsonage  and  a  circle  of  sisters  in  the  last  August ! ' 

It  was  at  this  time  that  Lady  Coleridge  executed  her 
well-known  drawing  of  Newman.  Lord  Coleridge,  the  son  of 
the  judge  who  had  passed  sentence  on  him  at  the  Achilli 
trial,  had  been  for  years  a  faithful  admirer  and  friend. 

'  I  could  not,'  Newman  writes  to  Church,  '  in  common 
gratitude  decline  Coleridge's  proposal,  even  if  it  had  been  an 
onerous  one,  instead  of  being  at  once  so  light  and  so  compli- 
mentary. And  Lady  C.  had  actually  advanced  in  what  I  felt 
to  be  so  kind,  and  only  wanted  my  presence  to  be  able  to 
complete  it.  But  I  use  the  word  "  gratitude  "  with  a  special 
and  more  positive  meaning, — for  21  or  22  years,  from  the 
time  of  his  Father's  speech  over  me,  when  so  many  gave  me 
up,  he  took  me  up,  and  has  not  ceased  from  speaking  of,  and 
to  me  kind  things  all  that  long  time — and  this  is  a  thing  one 
can't  forget.' 

The  loss  of  so  many  old  friends  bound  Newman  the  more 
closely  to  those  who  remained. 

The  invitation  to  Church  and  Blachford  to  spend  a  day  at 
the  Oratory  was  renewed  in  the  summer  of  1874,  with  a  note 
of  pathetic  anxiety  lest  they  should  find  it  a  bore  : 


392  LIFE  OF  CARDINAL  NEWMAN 

•  Rednal  :  June  12,  1874. 

*  My  dear  Church, — I  do  so  much  fear  we  may  be  at  cross 
purposes — you  and  B.  finding  yourselves  unwilling  to  refuse 
me,  and  I  on  my  part  fearing  I  should  seem  to  decline  you. 

'  There  seems  to  me  a  great  difficulty  in  your  or  h\s  finding 
time.  I  can't  bear  the  thought  of  his  hurrying  down  after 
you — I  can't  bear  the  supposition,  (which  never  entered  into 
my  hedidi)  o^  yoxir  fijiding  your  way  herefrom  Birmingham,  not 
only  without  him,  but  without  7He. 

'  Should  weather  be  good,  and  both  of  you  at  liberty,  and 
you  could  come  together,  then  I  can  fancy  it  pleasant  to  you 
and  to  me — but  for  you  to  make  an  effort,  would  be  cruel. 

'  No — do  as  I  wish  you  to  do.  You  can't  take  me  by 
surprise  between  this  and  July  15,  if  you  give  me  24  hours 
notice.  If  you  see  the  way  clear  before  you,  for  any  time  the 
next  6  weeks,  telegraph  to  me  "  we,  or  I,  shall  be  at  the 
Birmingham  station  at  such  an  hour  to-morrow — "  and  I  will 
meet  you  there— but  the  idea  of  Blachford  putting  himself 
into  a  train  after  the  trouble  of  a  Privy  Council  meeting  ! 

*  However,  if  after  my  saying  all  this,  you  j/z7/ mainly  keep 
to  your  proposal,  I  modify  it  thus-. — Come  both  of  you  on 
Wednesday  afternoon  or  evening ;  drive  from  the  Station  to 
the  Oratory.  I  will  give  you  beds  there.  (I  could  not  give 
beds  at  Rednal.)  Next  morning,  Thursday,  we  would  drive 
over  to  Rednal,  lunch,  and  then  return  by  a  midday  train 
to  London,  in  time  for  7.30  dinner. 

'  If  you  assjire  me  that  such  an  absence  from  London  will 
be  a  refreshment  to  you,  not  a  fatigue,  you  will  remove  the 
only  difficulty  to  it  (and  it  is  a  great  one)  which  I  have — but 
////  you  say  so  yourselves,  I  don't  know  how  to  believe  it. 

*  Ever  yrs  affly, 

John  H.  Newman.' 

The  visit  did  come  off  in  July,  though  I  have  no  record  of 
its  exact  date. 

'  I  have  not  yet  got  over  my  refusal  to  play  the  fiddle  to 
you  and  Blachford,'  Newman  writes  to  Church  on  July  20 — 
I  think  I  should  have  played  had  I  had  time — but  we  felt 
we  had  not  a  minute  to  spare,  and  I  could  not  screw  up  my 
courage  as  I  could  my  pegs,  that  is,  all  at  once.' 

Newman  had  in  these  years  an  interesting  correspondence 
with  Principal  Brown,  of  Aberdeen,  on  the  great  subject  of 
the  desirableness  of  union  among  Christians  in  view  of  the 
spread  of  infidelity.     Principal  Brown  in  the  first  instance  sent 


AFTER  THE   COUNCIL   (1871-1874)  393 

Newman  his  Life  of  Dr.  Duncan,  and  Newman's  expression 
of  his  thanks  led  to  a  further  interchange  of  letters.  In  the 
first  two,  Newman  urged  that  the  study  of  the  Gospels  was 
the  best  road  both  to  union  and  to  faith  in  an  evil  day. 

To  Principal  Brown. 

'  The  Oratory:  October  24th,  1872. 

'  Pray  do  not  suppose  that  my  delay  in  answering  your 
very  kind  letter  has  arisen  from  indifference  to  it.  I  feel 
extremely  and  thank  you  for  the  warmth  of  your  language 
about  me,  and  I  wish  to  return  it  to  you.  What  a  mystery  it 
is  in  this  day  that  there  should  be  so  much  which  draws 
religious  minds  together,  and  so  much  which  separates  them 
from  each  other.  Never  did  members  of  the  various 
Christian  communions  feel  such  tenderness  for  each  other, 
yet  never  were  the  obstacles  greater  or  stronger  which  divide 
them.  What  a  melancholy  thought  is  this, — and  when  will  a 
better  day  come  ?  .  .  . 

'  It  seems  to  me  the  first  step  to  any  chance  of  unity  amid 
our  divisions,  is  for  religious  minds,  one  and  all,  to  live  upon 
the  Gospels.' 

'  The  Oratory  :  January  nth,  1873. 

'  I  thank  you  for  the  copy  of  your  Lecture,  which  I  was 
glad  to  have.  It  seems  to  me  to  take  the  true  and  the  normal 
way  of  meeting  the  infidelity  of  the  age,  by  referring  to  Our 
Lord's  Person  and  Character  as  exhibited  in  the  Gospels. 
Philip  said  to  Nathanael  "  Come  and  see" — that  is  just  what 
the  present  free  thinkers  will  not  allow  men  to  do.  They 
perplex  and  bewilder  them  with  previous  questions,  to  hinder 
them  falling  under  the  legitimate  rhetoric  of  His  Divine  Life, 
of  His  sacred  words  and  acts.  They  say  :  "  There  is  no  truth 
because  there  are  so  many  opinions,"  or  "  How  do  you  know 
that  the  Gospels  are  authentic  ?  "  "  How  do  you  account  for 
Papias  not  mentioning  the  fourth  Gospel .-'  "  or  "  How  can  you 
believe  that  punishment  is  eternal  ?  "  or,  "  Why  is  there  no 
stronger  proof  of  the  Resurrection  ?  "  With  this  multitude  of 
questions  in  detail,  they  block  the  way  between  the  soul 
and  its  Saviour,  and  will  not  let  it  "  Come  and  see."  ' 

'  Writing  to  another  correspondent  in  the  following  year  Newman  carefully 
guards  this  view  from  possible  exaggerations.  '  Protestants  maintain,'  he  writes, 
•that  Our  Lord  Himself  is  all  in  all— evidence  and  proof,  as  well  as  Object,  of 
our  faith  ;  that  we  desire  no  better  assurance  that  He  is  God  Incarnate  than  is  con- 
veyed in  His  own  voice,  "  It  is  I."  This  I  put  into  their  mouths,  nor  have  I,  as 
I  think,  said  anything  in  the  pages  which  follow  in  disapproval  or  depreciation  of 
such  an  answer  to  my  question. 

'I  may  be  wrong,  but  I  think  it  is  this  that  you  mean  in  your   letter  by 


394  LIFE   OF   CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

'  We  act  otherwise  in  matters  of  this  world, — a  judge 
says  :  "  I  am  not  satisfied  with  affidavits — I  want  to  see  the 
witnesses  face  to  face."  In  the  novel,  the  Duke  of  Argyll 
thought  nothing  better  than  to  introduce  Jenny  Deans  to  her 
Majesty,  and  let  her  speak  for  herself.  Such  was  the  effect 
of  Our  Lord's  presence  that  His  hearers  said  :  "  Never  did 
man  speak  like  this  man."  But  this  is  just  what  we  should 
not  be  allowed  to  do  at  all,  if  these  new  lights  had  their 
way.  All  one  can  say  is,  that,  miserable  as  it  is,  it  is  so 
unnatural,  that  I  should  think  it  cannot  have  success  for  any 
ong  time,  but  common  sense  will  assert  its  sway  over  men's 
minds. 

'I  hope  you  will  excuse  me  for  thus  running  on.  As  to 
the  remarks  in  your  letter,  I  wish  I  saw  as  hopefully  as  you 
do  the  prospects  of  Christendom,  relative  to  its  mutual 
divisions.  I  can  understand  that  infidelity  has  no  vitality. 
But  what  will  kill  the  vigorous  life  whereby  those  whom  I 
agree  with  hold  the  Catholic  Church  to  be  the  work  of  God 
and  whereby  other  men  consider  it  the  work  of  the  evil  one  ?  ^ 

"  experience  "—or  an  experimental  knowledge  of  Christ— and  so  far  from  at  once 
putting  it  aside,  I  should  myself  consider  that  this  personal  hold  upon  Him  is  the 
immediate  evidence  of  divine  truth  to  every  true  consistent  Christian,  who  has  no 
need  of  having  his  answer  in  hand  to  every  one  of  the  multiform,  many  headed 
objections  which  from  day  to  day  he  may  hear  urged  against  his  faith. 

'  But  I  consider  too  that  the  Lover  of  Souls  and  Searcher  of  hearts  has  not 
thought  it  enough  for  us,  has  not  felt  it  safe  for  our  poor  nature,  to  have  no  other 
safeguard  for  our  faith  than  this.  Religious  experiences  and  convictions,  when 
right,  come  from  God— but  Satan  can  counterfeit  them,  and  those  may  feel  assur- 
ances to  which  they  have  no  claim,  and,  in  matter  of  fact,  men  who  have  professed 
the  most  beautiful  things  and  with  the  utmost  earnestness  and  sincerity  believed 
in  their  union  with  Our  Lord,  have  often  slipped  away  into  one  or  other  form  of 
error  on  the  grounds  of  their  new  inward  experiences  and  convictions  ;— not  only 
into  one  or  other  form  of  misbelief,  but  into  scepticism  and  infidelity.  Looking 
over  the  letters  of  acquaintances  or  strangers  of  past  years,  who  are  now  unbelievers, 
I  have  before  now  come  upon  the  expression  of  their  faith  and  hope  in  Christ  so 
simple  and  fervent,  and  of  their  experimental  certitude  so  vivid,  as  to  fill  me  at 
once  with  awe  and  tearful  pity  at  the  vision  of  such  a  change. 

'  Here  it  is  that  I  see  the  wisdom  and  mercy  of  God  in  setting  up  a  Catholic 
Church  for  the  protection  of  His  elect  children.  But  it  is  enough  to  have  carried 
my  explanation  thus  far.' 

^  Newman  opposed  consistently  an  unreal  ignoring  of  differences  between  the 
various  confessions.  '  You  need  not  be  afraid  of  hurting  me  by  what  you  may  say  in 
contrariety  to  my  own  religious  belief,'  he  writes  a  week  later  ;  '  I  may  think,  as  of 
course  I  do,  that  I  am  right  and  those  who  differ  from  me  wrong -but  it  does  not 
mend  matters  for  us  to  conceal  our  mutual  differences — and  nothing  is  more 
unmeaning,  as  well  as  more  untrue,  than  compromises  and  comprehensions.  Of 
course  unreal,  and  but  verba!  differences  do  exist  between  religious  men — but  such 
are  not  the  differences  which  exist  between  Catholics  and  their  opponents.      It 


AFTER   THE   COUNCIL   (1871-1874)  395 

God's  grace  can  do  all  things — but  how  is  either  party  to 
give  up  their  own  tenet  on  the  point  without  losing  their 
Christianity? ' 

But,  though  not  hopeful  as  to  the  prospect  of  external 
union,  Newman  did  see  something  hopeful  in  the  growing 
desire  for  it. 

*  Sad  as  it  is  to  witness  the  ineffectual  yearnings  after  unity 
on  all  hands,  of  which  you  speak,'  he  writes  in  the  following 
November,  'still  it  is  hopeful  also.  We  may  hope  that  our 
good  God  has  not  put  it  into  the  hearts  of  religious  men  to 
wish  and  pray  for  unity,  without  intending  in  His  own  time 
to  fulfil  the  prayer.  And  since  the  bar  against  unity  is  a 
conscientious  feeling,  and  a  reverence  for  what  each  party 
holds  itself  to  be  the  truth,  and  a  desire  to  maintain  the 
Faith,  we  may  humbly  hope  that  in  our  day,  and  till  He 
discloses  to  the  hearts  of  men  what  the  true  Faith  is.  He 
will,  where  hearts  are  honest,  take  the  will  for  the  deed.' 

There  is  a  strain  of  similar  hopefulness  in  the  last  letter 
of  the  correspondence  which  I  have  found,  written  a  little 
more  than  a. year  later: 

'Jan.  14,  '75. 

'  It  is  indeed  to  me  strange  that,  being  as  the  world  would 
say  at  your  antipodes,  still  in  those  all-important  points, 
about  which  you  write,  1  should  be  one  with  you  ;  and  I 
rejoice  in  it  as  one  compensation  of  the  cruel  overthrow  of 
faith  which  wc  see  on  all  sides  of  us,  that,  as  the  setting  of  the 
sun  brings  out  the  stars,  so  great  principles  arc  found  to 
shine  out,  which  are  hailed  by  men  of  various  religions  as 
their  own  in  common,  when  infidelity  prevails. 

'  It  rejoices  me  to  find  you  insisting  that  emotions  cannot 
stand  of  themselves  and  but  presuppose  an  object,  also  that 
no  man  can  worship,  love,  or  trust  in  a  probable  God.  Also, 
as  you  seem  to  argue  in  tlie  case  of  Dr.  Martineau  that  we 
cannot  cut  off  half  of  Scripture,  and  believe  the  other  half, 
when  it  is  only  the  chance  of  our  personal  criticism  taking 
this  or  that  direction  that  has  left  that  other  half  standings 
and  your  argument  against  him,  as  brought  out  in  your  letter, 
seems  to  me  very  strong,  nor  does  he  attempt  to  answer  it 
in  his.'  > 

would  be  best,  if  they  did  not  exist — it  is  next  best  to  confess  them,  plainly 
though  in  charily.' 

'  Some  further  letters  indicating  Newman's  thoughts  at  this  time  on  the  prospect 
of  a  spread  of  infidelity  and  of  the  desirability  of  co-operation  on  the  part  of  all 
Christians  against  it  will  be  found  at  pp.  415  scq. 


396  LIFE   OF  CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

Thus  Newman  passed  the  time  between  1871  and  1874, 
in  writing  to  old  friends  and  correspondents  who  sought  his 
advice ;  in  receiving  occasional  and  welcome  visits  from 
them  ;  in  mourning  and  praying  for  those  who  year  by  year 
passed  away,  and  preparing  to  join  them  when  the  inevitable 
summons  should  come  ;  in  reviewing  and  editing  early 
writings  and  inserting  comments  and  corrections  ^  so  that 
he  could  leave  them  with  a  safe  conscience  to  be  read  by 
the  generations  which  would  come  after  him.  Of  adding 
anything  new  to  his  published  works  he  had  no  thought. 

'  The  Plain  and  Parochial  Sermons  were  Newman's  first  republication  of  his 
Anglican  works.  They  were,  at  his  request,  edited  by  W.  J.  Copeland.  His 
subsequent  republications  were  edited  by  himself,  but  with  notes  when  he  con- 
sidered that  the  text  called  for  correction.  '  You  have  been  of  the  greatest  use 
to  me,'  he  writes  to  Copeland  in  April  1873,  •  in  the  matter  of  the  Sermons,  and  I 
only  regret  you  have  had  so  much  trouble  :  but  you  have  not  had  it  for  nothing. 
Unless  you  had  broken  the  ice,  I  could  have  republished  nothing  which  I  wrote 
before  1845-6.  The  English  public  would  not  have  borne  any  alterations — and 
my  own  people  would  have  been  much  scandalized  had  I  made  none.  They 
murmured  a  good  deal  at  the  new  edition  of  the  Sermons,  as  it  was — but,  since  you, 
not  I,  published  them,  nothing  could  be  said  about  it.  After  this  beginning,  I 
took  courage  to  publish  my  Essay  on  Miracles,  and  the  British  Critic  Essays, 
uncorrected,  but  with  notes  corrective  of  the  text.  This  too  made  some  disturb- 
ance, but  very  little.  And  then  I  published  at  Rivington's  my  University  Sermons ; 
and  then  I  went  on  to  mix  Anglican  and  Catholic  Essays  together ;  and  now  I 
hear  no  criticisms  on  these  measures  at  all— and  I  have  even  dedicated  a  volume 
of  my  Historical  Sketches,  half  of  it  written  as  an  Anglican,  to  an  Irish  Bishop.' 


CHAPTER    XXXII 

THE   GLADSTONE   CONTROVERSY   (1874-1878) 

Newman  had  said  of  the  'Grammar  of  Assent'  that  he 
expected  it  to  be  his  '  last  work.'  And  we  have  seen  that 
the  thought  of  further  intervention  in  public  matters  was  far 
from  his  mind  in  these  years. 

An  attempt  was  made  to  draw  him  into  public  contro- 
versy on  Mr.  Gladstone's  Irish  University  Bill  of  1873  but  it 
failed.  '  It  is  14  years,'  he  wrote  to  the  gentleman  who 
approached  him  on  the  subject,  '  since  I  was  across  St. 
George's  Channel,  and  any  words  of  mine  would  not  be  worth 
much  more  as  regards  the  Irish  question  of  1873  than  would 
have  been  a  political  tract  of  one  of  the  seven  sleepers  on  his 
waking  from  his  long  slumber  at  Ephesus.'  He  did  however 
express  to  the  same  correspondent — Mr.  Fottrell — in  a  letter 
dated  December  10,  1873,  a  strong  opinion  as  to  the  necessity 
of  giving  the  Catholic  laity  their  full  share  of  influence  in  any 
scheme  for  University  education,  if  it  was  to  have  a  chance  of 
success.  His  words  on  the  subject  were  strong  and  weighty 
and  deserve  to  be  quoted  : 

'  One  of  the  chief  evils  which  I  deplored  in  the  manage- 
ment of  the  affairs  of  the  University  20  years  ago  when  I 
was  in  Ireland  was  the  absolute  refusal,  with  which  my 
urgent  representations  were  met,  that  the  Catholic  laity 
should  be  allowed  to  co-operate  with  the  Archbishops  in  the 
work. 

'  So  far  as  I  can  see,  there  are  ecclesiastics  all  over  Europe, 
whose  policy  it  is  to  keep  the  laity  at  arms-length,  and  hence 
the  laity  have  been  disgusted  and  become  infidel,  and  onl}' 
two  parties  exist,  both  ultras  in  opposite  directions.  I  came 
away  from  Ireland  with  the  distressing  fear,  that  in  that 
Catholic  country,  in  like  manner,  there  was  to  be  an 
antagonism  as  time  went  on  between  the  Hierarchy  and  the 
educated  classes. 


398  LIFE   OF   CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

'  You  will  be  doing  the  greatest  possible  benefit  to  the 
Catholic  cause  all  over  the  world,  if  you  succeed  in  making 
the  University  a  middle  station  at  which  laity  and  clergy  can 
meet,  so  as  to  learn  to  understand  and  yield  to  each  other, 
and  from  which,  as  from  a  common  ground,  they  may  act  in 
union  upon  an  age  which  is  running  headlong  into  infi- 
delit)',  and  however  evil  in  themselves  may  be  the  men 
and  the  measures  which  of  late  years  have  had  so  great  a 
success  against  the  Holy  See,  they  will  in  the  Providence 
of  God  be  made  the  instruments  of  good,  if  they  teach  us 
priests  that  the  "  obsequium  "  which  the  laity  owe  religion 
is  "  rationabile." ' 

While  responding  thus  with  sympathy  and  interest  to 
private  communications  on  matters  of  importance,  his  main 
work  continued  to  be  the  re-editing  of  his  own  writings  and 
the  arrangement  of  his  past  correspondence.  He  was  putting 
his  house  in  order  before  leaving  it. 

Yet  two  memoranda  dated  respectively  August  30  and 
October  14,  1874,  show  that  he  did  not  feel  even  now  quite 
happy  at  his  comparative  inactivity  : 

*  I  have  so  depressing  a  feeling  that  I  have  done 
nothing  through  my  long  life,  and  especially  that  now  I  am 
doing  nothing  at  all.  Anglicans  indeed  rather  think  more 
of  what  I  have  written  than  they  did,  if  I  may  judge  from 
letters  I  receive — but,  as  to  Catholics,  they  would  not  deny 
that  I  have  done  some  good  service  towards  bringing 
Anglicans  into  the  Church,  nay  am  perhaps  doing  so  still  ; 
but  as  to  the  great  controversies  of  the  day,  about  the 
divinity  of  Christianity  &c.,  they  think  I  am  passe.  At 
least  this,  (perhaps  rather)  that  I  have  taken  a  wrong  line  in 
respect  to  them.  At  least  I  think  the  Jesuits  do.  They 
would  think  my  line  too  free  and  sceptical,  that  I  made  too 
many  admissions  &c.  On  the  contrary  I  cannot  at  all  go 
along  with  them — and  since  they  have  such  enormous 
influence  just  now,  and  are  so  intolerant  in  their  views,  this  is 
pretty  much  the  same  as  saying  that  I  have  not  taken,  and 
do  not  take  what  would  popularly  be  called  the  Catholic  line. 

'  1  may  seem  inconsistent  or  ungrateful  to  them  in  this, — 
that  I  must  grant,  that,  in  spite  of  their  violence  against 
Rosmini,  Ubaghs  &c.  they  have  never  fallen  upon  me — the 
contrary— yet  I  think  they  have  not  felt  the  same  since  the 
Vatican  Council  and  the  "  Grammar  of  Assent  " — certainly  not 
if  their    sentiments   towards    me   are    to   be  measured    and 


THE   GLADSTONE   CONTROVERSY   (1874-187S)       399 

interpreted  by  my  feelings  towards  them.  They  certainly 
seem  to  me  to  be  too  powerful  for  the  health  of  that  Divine 
Body  out  of  which  they  grow  and  which  it  is  their  business 
and  duty  to  subserve. 

'  But  then  I  think — what  is  this  to  me  ?  God  will 
provide — He  knows  what  is  best.  Is  He  less  careful  for  the 
Church,  less  able  to  defend  it  than  I  am  .''  Why  need  I 
fash  myself  about  it  ?  What  am  I  ?  my  time  is  out.  I  am 
passii  I  may  have  done  something  in  my  day — but  I  can 
do  nothing  now.  It  is  the  turn  of  others.  And  if  things 
seem  done  clumsily,  my  business  is,  not  to  criticise,  but  to 
have  faith  in  God.  The  130th  is  the  psalm  that  suits  me. 
Alas  !  we  never  read  it  in  the  office — "  Non  est  exaltatum  cor 
meum,  neque  &c.  Neque  ambulavi  in  magnis,  neque  in 
mirabilibus  super  me — Sicut  ablactatus  est  super  matre  sua, 
ita  retributio  in  anima  mea."  It  is  enough  for  me  to  prepare 
for  death,  for,  as  it  would  appear,  nothing  else  awaits  me — 
there  is  nothing  else  to  do. 

'  And  He  Who  has  been  with  me  so  marvellously  all 
through  my  life  will  not  fail  me  now,  I  know  though  I  have 
no  claim  upon  Him.  I  certainly  feel  much  weaker  and  less 
capable  than  I  was — and  whether  this  adimaniia  will  rapidly 
increase  upon  me  or  not,  I  must  give  up  the  thought  of  the 
next  generation  &  think  of  myself 

'  October  14,  1874. 

'I  have  been  startled  on  considering  that  in  the  last  15 
years  I  have  only  written  two  books,  the  "  Apologia  "  and  the 
Essay  on  Assent — of  which  the  former  was  almost  extempore. 
What  have  I  been  doing  with  my  time  ?  though  I  have  never 
been  idle.  The  last  four  or  five  years  I  have  been  busy  with 
my  reprints— and  my  Essay  on  Assent  took  up  four  years 
from  1866  to  1870.  Then  my  smaller  publications  since  1859 
(viz.  "Occasional  Sermons,"  pp.  75  ;  "Letter  to  Pusey,"  pp. 
140;  on  "  Ecce  Homo,"  pp.  36;  on  St.  Ignatius,  pp.  i6\  on 
Anglican  Orders,  &c.,  pp.  40  ;  on  causes  of  Arianism  and  on 
Apollinarianism,  pp.  190  ;  and  Theodoret,  pp.  56),  amount  to 
pp.  572  ;  that  is,  to  (at  least)  a  volume  and  a  half — but  these 
have  been  mostly  done  in  the  course  of  the  last  four  years 
which  have  been  already  taken  into  account.  Seven  years 
(from  1859  to  1866)  remain,  with  only  the"  Apologia," done  in 
nine  weeks  (between  April  10  and  June  12),  and  the  letter  to 
Pusey  and  Sermon  on  Weedall  ;  what  was  I  doing  all  that 
time?  — First,  must  be  recollected,  all  through  the  fifteen  years 
the  great  number  of  letters  I  wrote,  whatever  be  their  worth, 
most  of  them  certainly  ephemeral  or  of  no  permanent  value 


400  LIFE   OF  CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

— next  the  time  I  have  given  to  the  schoolboys,  especially  in 
preparing  and  editing  four  Latin  Plays  for  their  use  (but  I 
did  not  begin  these  till  1864)  ; — thirdly  the  time  I  gave 
through  i860  to  the  alterations,  &c.,  in  the  Church,  which 
were  almost  my  occupation — fourthly  my  state  of  health  for 
good  part  of  1861.  Still  the  fact  remains  that,  whereas 
before  1859  I  wrote  almost  a  book  a  year  (viz.  30^  volumes 
from  1826  to  1859 — '33  years),  in  the  last  15  I  have  written 
between  three  and  four — though  such  powers  of  writing  as  I 
may  have  are  not  less,  to  say  the  least,  than  they  were. 

'  This  is  an  unpleasant  thought — more  than  unpleasant — 
what  have  I  been  doing  ?  I  have  not  mentioned  above  one 
occupation  which  has  taken  a  great  deal  of  time,  though  there 
is  not  much  to  show  for  it — viz.,  the  transcription  I  have  made 
of  my  own  and  my  friends'  letters.     But  cui  bono  ? 

'  The  cause  of  my  not  writing  from  1859  to  1864  was  my 
failure  with  the  Rambler.  I  thought  I  had  got  into  a  scrape, 
and  it  became  me  to  be  silent.  So  they  thought  at  Rome,  if 
Mgr.  Talbot  is  to  be  their  spokesman,  for,  referring  to  the 
"Apologia"  to  Ambrose  in  1867,  he  said  of  me:  "  He  had 
ceased  writing,  and  a  good  riddance — why  did  he  ever  begin 
again  }"  I  certainly  had  myself  in  i860  anticipated  his  view 
in  1 867  of  my  services  to  religion.    Vide  my  remarks  above.  .  . 

*  Another  reason,  closely  connected  with  this,  was  my 
habit,  or  even  nature,  of  not  writing  and  publishing  without  a 
call.  What  I  have  written  has  been  for  the  most  part  what 
may  be  called  official,  works  done  in  some  office  I  held  or 
engagement  I  had  made — all  my  Sermons  are  such,  my 
Lectures  on  the  Prophetical  Office,  on  Justification,  my 
Essays  in  the  British  Critic,  and  translation  of  St.  Athanasius 
— or  has  been  from  some  especial  call,  or  invitation,  or 
necessity,  or  emergency,  as  my  Arians,  Anglican  Difficulties, 
"  Apologia  "  or  Tales.  The  Essay  on  Assent  is  nearly  the  only 
exception.  And  I  cannot  write  without  such  a  stimulus.  I 
feel  to  myself  going  out  of  the  way,  or  impertinent,  and  I 
write  neither  with  spirit  nor  with  point.  As  to  the  "  Assent," 
I  had  felt  it  on  my  conscience  for  years  that  it  would  not  do 
to  quit  the  world  without  doing  it.  Rightly  or  wrongly  I  had 
ever  thought  it  a  duty,  as  if  it  was  committed  to  me  to  do  it. 
I  had  tried  to  do  it  again  and  again,  and  failed  ;  and  though 
at  length  I  did  it,  I  did  it  after  all  with  great  difficulty.  But 
it  was  a  great  relief  to  me  in  1870  to  have  done  it.  But  to 
return,  this  is  the  real  account  of  my  silence  from  1859  to 
1864 — viz.,  I  said  to  myself,  "In  14  years  (from  1845  to  1859) 
I  have  written  nine  volumes,  and  have  got  no  thanks  for  my 


THE  GLADSTONE    CONTROVERSY   (1874-1878)      401 

labour — rather  have  been  thought  inopportune — why  should 
I  go  on  blundering  ?  "  On  occasion  of  my  "  Apologia  "  Hope- 
Scott  said,  "  Now  you  have  got  the  ear  of  the  public — take 
care  not  to  lose  it  again  by  your  silence."  '  ^ 

A  month  after  these  words  were  written  there  did  come  a 
*  special  call '  on  him  once  more  to  enter  the  arena.  He 
had  to  defend  his  co-religionists  against  an  attack  almost 
as  virulent  as  that  of  Kingsley  ten  years  earlier. 

Mr.  Gladstone  had  in  1874  retired  from  the  leadership  of 
his  party,  and  employed  the  leisure  thus  gained  in  writing 
a  strong  attack  on  the  Vatican  decrees  of  1870.  The  Irish 
Bishops  had  defeated  his  Irish  University  Bill  of  1873,  and 
in  Catholic  circles  the  publication  of  his  pamphlet  was 
associated  with  his  irritation  at  their  action.  He  had  taken, 
largely  owing  to  his  friendship  with  Lord  Acton,  a  close 
interest  in  Bollinger's  attitude  of  resistance  to  the  definition. 
'  It  makes  my  blood  run  cold,'  he  wrote  to  Mrs.  Gladstone, 
'to  think  of  his  being  excommunicated  in  his  venerable  but, 
thank  God,  hale  and  strong  old  age.'  He  wrote  to  one  of 
the  Irish  Bishops  (Dr.  Moriarty)  that  he  regarded  the 
definition  as  '  the  most  portentous  (taking  them  singly)  of 
all  events  in  the  history  of  the  Christian  Church.' 

Mr.  Gladstone  first  published  an  article  in  one  of  the 
magazines,  in  which  occurred  the  often-quoted  statement 
that  '  Rome  has  substituted  for  the  proud  boast  of  semper 
eadein  a  policy  of  violence  and  change  in  faith,'  and  that 
since  the  events  of  1870  'no  one  can  become  her  convert 
without  renouncing  his  mental  and  moral  freedom,  and 
placing  his  civil  loyalty  and  duty  at  the  mercy  of  another.' 
His  charge  was  that  Rome  had  '  equally  repudiated  modern 
thought  and  ancient  history.' 

In  November  1874  his  attack  was  renewed  and  amplified 
in  his  '  political  expostulation  '  entitled  '  The  Vatican  Decrees 
in  their  bearing  on  Civil  Allegiance.'  Mr.  Gladstone  made 
capital  out  of  Archbishop  Manning's  recently  published 
lecture    on  '  Caesarism  and    Ultramontanism,'   in    which   the 

'  'Feb.  27,  1876.  Curiously  enough  the  foregoing  page  (about  writing  not 
without  a  call)  was  written  but  a  few  weeks  before  the  call  made  on  me  by 
Gladstone's  pamphlets,  and  my  consequent  Letter  to  the  Diikc  of  Norfolk — 
J.  H.  N.' 

VOL.  II.  D  D 


402  LIFE   OF   CARDINAL  NEWMAN 

undying  contest  between  the  Pope  and  the  civil  power, 
between  '  Peter  and  Caesar,'  was  dwelt  on  in  mystical  language 
and  with  extreme  emphasis.  This  lecture — so  Gladstone 
argued — represented  the  outcome  of  the  Vatican  decrees  as 
'  understood  by  the  most  favoured  ecclesiastics.'  Lord  Morley 
tells  us  that  the  pamphlet  was  '  meant  for  an  argument 
that  the  doctrine  of  infallibility  aimed  a  deadly  blow  at  the 
old  historic  scientific  and  moderate  school '  of  Catholics  ; 
that  '  it  was  a  degradation  of  the  episcopal  order ;  it 
carried  to  the  furthest  point  the  spirit  of  absolutist  cen- 
tralisation in  its  measure  as  fatal  to  the  organic  life  in 
the  Church  as  in  the  State.'  The  reader  will  at  once 
see  the  special  interest  of  this  charge  to  Dr,  Newman. 
Mr.  Gladstone,  in  effect,  treated  the  definition  as  identifying 
the  Catholic  Church  for  ever  with  the  policy  and  spirit  of  such 
men  as  Manning,  and  Ward,  and  Louis  Veuillot.  Newman 
was  in  his  own  person  the  most  complete  refutation  of 
Mr.  Gladstone's  contention.  He  not  only  loyally  accepted 
the  definition,  but  had  held  the  doctrine  which  was  defined  by 
the  Vatican  Council  ever  since  he  was  a  Catholic  at  all.  And 
yet  he  was  in  the  strongest  degree  opposed  to  the  centralising 
and  absolutist  extremes  which  so  many  of  its  champions  had 
favoured.  Many  Catholics  who  sympathised  in  his  view 
urged  him  to  take  the  opportunity  which  Providence  had  put 
in  his  way  for  speaking  out.  Like  Kingsley's  attack,  the 
Gladstone  pamphlets  gave  him  an  excuse  for  answering 
Catholic  extremists  under  cover  of  replying  to  the  misrepre- 
sentations of  an  assailant  of  the  Church.  And  in  spite  of 
his  resolution  not  to  write  again,  here  was  a  chance  which 
must  not,  he  felt,  lightly  be  thrown  aside. 

To  Lord  Blachford  he  wrote  thus  in  October : 

'  Gladstone's  excuse  is,  I  suppose,  the  extravagance  of 
Archbishop  Manning  in  his  "  Caesarism,"  and  he  will  do  us  a 
service  if  he  gives  us  an  opportunity  of  speaking.  We  can 
speak  against  Gladstone,  while  it  would  not  be  decent 
to  speak  against  Manning.  The  difficulty  is  zvJio  ought  to 
speak  ?  ' 

By  December  he  had  resolved  to  speak  himself  He 
confided  the  secret  to  Dean  Church  : 


THE   GLADSTONE   CONTROVERSY   (1874-1878)       403 

'  The  Oratory  :  December  lo,  1874. 

'  I  am  writing  against  time,  and  my  old  fingers  will  not 
move  quick.  I  am  most  dismally  busy.  Don't  tell,  for  I 
wish  nothing  said  from  me  as  yet,  but  I  am  trying,  as  the 
Papers  report,  to  answer  Gladstone,  but  I  don't  like  to 
commit  myself  till  I  have  actually  done.  I  have  had  so 
many  urgent  requests,  asking  me  to  do  so.  And  I  feel  I 
must  do  so,  if  I  can,  for  my  own  honour.  I  grieve  indeed 
that  he  should  have  so  committed  himself — I  mean,  by 
charging  people  quite  as  free  in  mind  as  he  is,  of  being 
moral  and  mental  slaves.  I  never  thought  I  should  be 
writing  against  Gladstone  !  but  he  is  as  unfair  and  untrue, 
as  he  is  cruel.  It  is  a  marvel.  I  think  men  like  \V.  G. 
Ward  have  in  part  to  answer  for  it — but  he  should  have  had 
clearer  notions  of  what  we  hold  and  what  we  don't,  before  he 
sent  100,000  of  his  pamphlet  through  the  country. 

'  I  thought  I  should  be  in  peace  for  the  remainder  of  my 
life — and  now  I  am  in  controversy  again  ! ' 

The  reason  why  Newman  hesitated  at  once  to  reply  to 
Mr.  Gladstone  was  the  very  fact  that  his  doing  so  must 
involve  an  explicit  protest  against  what  he  regarded  as  the 
exaggerations  and  aggressions  of  the  editors  of  the  Univers 
and  of  the  Dublin  Review.  He  had  made  a  compact  with 
himself  to  speak  plainly  if  he  wrote  at  all.  To  do  this 
without  giving  offence  in  powerful  quarters  was  he  knew 
most  difficult.  But  it  was  a  case  of  '  now  or  never.'  And 
so  he  wrote  with  great  anxiety,  but  under  a  sense  of  duty. 
'  You  may  suppose  how  anxious  I  am  what  will  be  thought 
of  my  pamphlet,'  he  writes  to  Miss  Bowles,  '  For  if  I  am 
to  write,  I  am  not  going  to  utter  commonplaces.' 

The  '  Letter  to  the  Duke  of  Norfolk  ' — such  was  the  form 
of  his  pamphlet — is  well  known.  It  is  unnecessary  to  attempt 
any  full  analysis  of  it.  The  spirit  of  generous  loyalty  which 
breathes  through  its  pages  won  the  day  with  his  fellow-Catho- 
lics. A  few  critics  did  isolate  and  quote  with  disapproval  the 
passages  which  contained  his  protests  against  extreme  views. 
But  their  efforts  fell  flat.  The  general  spirit  of  the  whole  was 
.so  loyal  to  Rome,  his  arguments  against  Gladstone  so  power- 
ful, that  he  was  able  to  bring  in  his  protests  incidentally  with- 
out the  evil  consequences  he  had  feared.  Thus  in  the  course 
of  a  forcible  and  eloquent  argument  on  behalf  of  the  essential 

D  p  2 


404  LIFE   OF  CARDINAL  NEWMAN 

reasonableness  of  the  Papal  claims  and  of  the  Vatican 
definition  he  denounced  the  '  tyrannous  ipse  dixits '  of  the 
Dublin  Reviezv :  he  urged  the  dangers  of  the  '  maximising ' 
tendency  which  introduced  into  the  theology  taught  to  all 
Catholics  alike  those  pious  beliefs  which  often  indeed 
expressed  the  generous  zeal  and  loyal  spirit  of  certain 
minds,  but  yet  might  eventually  prove  not  to  be  founded 
on  fact.  He  emphasised  also  points  long  recognised  in  the 
theological  schools,  which  the  party  of  Louis  Veuillot  often 
forgot  or  denied,  and  he  expressed  opinions  of  his  own  which 
explained  his  action  at  the  time  of  the  Council.^ 

'  Tn  the  following  passages  he  repudiates  extreme  views  : 

He  quotes  from  a  declaration  of  the  Swiss  B'shopp,  approved  by  Pius  IX. 
himself,  to  the  effect  that  '  it  in  no  way  depends  upon  the  caprice  of  the  Pope, 
or  upon  his  good  pleasure,  to  make  such  and  such  a  doctrine  the  object  of  a 
dogmatic  definition.' — Diffictdties  of  Anglicans,  ii.  339. 

' ,  .  .  If  I  am  obliged  to  bring  religion  into  after-dinner  toasts,  (which 
indeed  does  not  seem  quite  the  thing)  I  shall  drink, — to  the  Pope,  if  you  please, 
— still,  to  Conscience  first,  and  to  the  Pope  afterwards.' — p.  261. 

The  whole  of  section  5  is  devoted  to  the  elaboration  of  the  supremacy  of 
conscience — '  not,'  he  is  careful  to  note,  '  as  a  fimcy  or  an  opinion,  but  as  a  dutiful 
obedience  to  what  claims  to  be  a  Divine  voice  speaking  within  us.' — p.  255. 

Newman  lays  down,  however,  at  pp.  257-8  with  great  care  the  stringent 
conditions  on  which  alone  it  is  lawful  to  oppose  '  the  supreme  but  not  infallible 
authority  of  the  Pope.' 

•  Archbishop  Kenrick  says,  "  His  power  was  given  for  edification,  not  for 
destruction.  If  he  uses  it  from  the  love  of  domination  (quod  absit)  scarcely  will 
he  meet  with  obedient  populations.^''  ' — p.  243. 

He  quotes  Bellarmine  as  saying  '  As  it  is  lawful  to  resist  the  Pope,  if  he 
assaulted  a  man's  person,  so  it  is  lawful  to  resist  him  if  he  assaulted  souls,  or 
troubled  the  state  (turbanti  rempublicam),  and  much  more  if  he  strove  to  destroy 
the  Church.  It  is  lawful,  I  say,  to  resist  him,  by  not  doing  what  he  commands, 
and  hindering  the  execution  of  his  will'  {De  Rovi.  Pont.  ii.  29). — p.  243. 

'  Other,  and  they  the  highest  Ultramontane  theologians,  hold  that  a  Pope 
w)io  teaches  heresy  ipso  facto  ceases  to  be  Pope.' — p.  359. 

'  Now  the  Rock  of  St.  Peter  on  its  summit  enjoys  a  pure  and  serene 
atmosphere,  but  there  is  a  great  deal  of  Roman  wa/ar/a  at  the  foot  of  it.' — p.  297. 

' .  .  .  There  are  partisans  of  Rome  who  have  not  the  sanctity  and  wisdom 
of  Rome  herself.' — p.  300. 

*  Of  course  Mr.  Gladstone  means  Theologians— not  mere  courtiers  or 
sycophants,  for  the  Pope  cannot  help  having  such  till  human  nature  is  changed.' 

-p-378. 

'lam  not  referring  to  anything  which  took  place  within  the  walls  of  the 
Council  chambers  ;  of  that  of  course  we  know  nothing  ;  but  even  though  things 
occurred  there  which  it  is  not  pleasant  to  dwell  upon,  that  would  not  at  all  affect, 
not  by  a  hair's  breadth,  the  validity  of  the  resulting  definition.'— p.  300. 

'  They  [the  minority  at  Ephesus]  had  opposed  it  [the  definition]  on  the 
conviction  that  that  definition  gave  great  encouragement  to  religious  errors  in  the 


THE  GLADSTONE  CONTROVERSY   (1874-1878)       405 

Though  anxious  as  to  the  effect  of  his  pamphlet,  Newman 
seems  to  have  felt  the  happier  for  having  spoken  out,  and  he 
left  the  issue  with  God, 

The  '  Letter  to  the  Duke  of  Norfolk  '  appeared  in  January. 
Its  favourable  reception  among  Catholics  was  immediate  and 
marked.     He  writes  to  Lord  Blachford  within  a  week  of  its 

appearance : 

'Feb.  5th,  1875. 

'  Of  course  I  was  much  interested  with  your  remarks  on 
my  letter,  which  you  can  fancy  I  was  most  reluctant  to  write. 
But  I  was  bound  to  write  from  my  duty  to  those  many  men 
who  had  been  more  or  less  influenced  in  their  conversion  by 
my  own  conversion — and  whom  I  fancied  saying  to  me,  "  Is 
this  what  you  have  let  us  in  for?"     And  I  certainly  have 

opposite  extreme  to  those  which  it  condemned  ;  and,  in  ftict,  I  think  that, 
humanly  speaking,  the  peril  was  extreme.  The  event  proved  it  to  be  so,  when 
twenty  years  afterwards  another  Council  was  held  under  the  successors  of  the 
majority  at  Ephesus  and  carried  triumphantly  those  very  errors  whose  eventual 
success  had  been  predicted  by  the  minority.'— p.  306. 

'  Though  the  Holy  Ghost  has  always  bten  present  in  the  Church  to  hinder 
error  in  her  definitions,  and  in  consequence  they  are  all  most  true  and  consistent, 
yet  it  is  not  therefore  to  be  denied  that  God,  when  any  matters  have  to  be 
defined,  requires  of  the  Church  a  co-operation  and  investigation  of  those  matters, 
and  that,  in  proportion  to  the  quality  of  men  who  meet  together  in  councils,  to 
the  investigation  and  diligence  which  is  applied,  and  the  greater  or  less  experience 
and  knowledge  which  is  possessed  more  at  one  time  than  at  other  times, 
definitions  more  or  less  perspicuous  are  drawn  up  and  matters  are  defined  more 
exactly  and  completely  '  (quoted  from  Molina).  — t^.  307. 

*  "  Faith  justifies  when  it  works,"  or  "  there  is  no  religion  where  there  is  no 
charity,"  may  be_  taken  in  a  good  sense  ;  but  each  proposition  is  condemned  in 
Quesnel,  because  it  is  false  as  he  uses  it.' — p.  295. 

'  None  but  the  Schola  Theologorum  is  competent  to  determine  the  force  of 
Papal  and  Synodal  utterances,  and  the  exact  interpretation  of  them  is  a  work  of 
time.' — p.  176. 

' .  .  .  Instances  frequently  occur,  when  it  is  successfully  maintained  by 
some  new  writer,  that  the  Pope's  act  does  not  imply  what  it  has  seemed  to  imply, 
and  questions  which  seemed  to  be  closed,  are  after  a  course  of  years  re-opened. 

— P-  333- 

'.  .   .   I  think  it  a  usurpation,   too  wicked  to  be  comfortably  dwelt  upon, 

when  individuals  use  their  own  private  judgment,  in  the  discussion  of  religious 
questions,  not  simply  "abundare  in  suo  sensu,"  but  for  the  purpose  of  anathe- 
matizing the  private  judgment  of  others.'— p.  346. 

He  speaks  cf  'that  principle  of  minimizing  so  necessary,  as  I  think,  for 
a  wise  and  cautious  theology.' — p.  332. 

These  passages  should  all  be  read  in  their  context.  They  are  none  of  them 
directed  against  even  the  most  generous  recognition  of  the  Pope's  powers  as  set 
forth  by  the  majority  of  theologians,  but  against  exaggerations  which  he  held  to 
be  untheological  and  impossible  to  maintain  in  serious  controversy. 


4o6  LIFE  OF   CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

had  my  reward  on  the  other  hand  from  the  old  Catholics/ 
from  Bishops,  Jesuits,  Dominicans,  and  various  clergy,  who 
have  with  one  voice  concurred  in  what  I  have  written,  as  a 
whole  and  in  its  separate  parts. 

'  I  don't  see  that  Gladstone's  article  in  the  Quarterly 
(tho'  I  have  not  seen  it  yet)  touches  me,  as  certainly  it  does 
not  personally  affect  me.  If  in  private  "  the  Pope's  lackies  " 
(as  St.  Francis  de  Sales  calls  them)  butter  the  Pope,  and  he, 
an  old  cruelly  treated  man  allows  it,  and  Gladstone  comes 
down  upon  the  Don  Pasquales  (is  not  that  the  name?)  who 
publish  all  this  to  the  world,  I  leave  Don  P.  to  answer 
Gladstone,  and  consider  it  no  business  of  mine.' 

The  success  of  the  pamphlet  in  the  end  surpassed  New- 
man's most  sanguine  expectations.  One  circumstance  helped 
largely  to  disarm  opposition  in  a  quarter  where  it  was  to  have 
been  expected.  The  subject  was  especially  W.  G.  Ward's,  and 
strong  theological  opposition  from  the  Dublin  Reviezu  would 
have  been  most  unfortunate.  Newman  had  considered  this. 
With  extraordinary  skill,  while  maintaining  the  substance  of 
Father  Ryder's  position  in  his  '  Idealism  and  Theology '  and 
its  practical  outcome,  he  had  so  stated  the  case  as  apparently 
to  leave  W.  G.  Ward's  main  abstract  principles  intact. 
Newman  did  not  insist  primarily  on  denying  to  this  or  that 
Pontifical  document  the  character  of  an  ex  cathedra  utterance, 
but  rather  argued  that  the  determination  as  to  precisely 
what  was  defined  irreformably  in  such  utterances  appertained 
solely  to  the  Schola  Theologorum  and  was  a  matter  of  time. 
The  issue  he  chiefly  dwelt  on  was  not  the  authority  of  this 
or  that  Pontifical  document,  but  the  precise  scope  of  what  it 
determined.  His  plea  was  for  interpretation  by  experts  after 
full  discussion.  The  result  was  that  W.  G.  Ward — whose  main 
contest  with  Ryder  had  ostensibly  turned  only  on  the  question 
What  Papal  utterances  are  ex  cathedra  ? — finding  his  own  prin- 
ciple apparently  conceded,  was  far  from  critical  as  to  details. 
He  spoke  in  the  Dtiblin  Review  with  great  cordiality  of 
Newman's  pamphlet,  and  expressly  denied  that  its  positions 
could  be  charged  with  the  '  minimising '  tendency  he  had 
denounced.  This  gave  the  note  for  others  who  belonged  to 
his  school  of  thought,  and  the  pamphlet  was  welcomed 
almost  without  a  dissentient  voice. 

^  The  hereditary  Catholics  as  contrasted  with  the  converts  were  spoken  of  as 
'  old  Catholics.' 


THE  GLADSTONE   CONTROVERSY   (1874-1878)       407 

Newman  had  sent  his  pamphlet  to  W,  G.  Ward  at  the 
outset  with  a  letter  in  explanation  of  the  few  passages   in 
which  he  had  alluded  expressly  to  Ward's  attitude  in  terms 
of  strong  disapproval.     '  Bear  with  me  where    I   allude  to 
you,'  he  wrote.     He  added  that,  if  he  wrote  at  all,  he  must  in 
conscience  say  out  what  he  had  felt  so  strongly,  and  that  he 
had    ever   recognised    and    admired    Ward's    own    straight- 
forwardness, while  he  deplored  his  extreme  views.    The  letter 
was  signed  '  with  much  affection,  \ours  most  sincerely,'  and 
Ward,   with    his    curious    combination    of  sensitive    love   of 
Newman  with  public  opposition  to  his  ecclesiastical  policy, 
complained  to  his  friends  that  the  '  yours  affectionately  '  of  so 
many  years  was  dropped.     He  wrote  a  sad  reply,  declaring 
that,  since  his  breach  with  his  old  leader,  he  had  felt  himself 
a  kind  of '  intellectual  orphan.' '     After  the  publication  in  the 
Dublin  Review  o{  Ward's  friendly  review  of  the  '  Letter,'  New- 
man wrote  him  a  letter  of  thanks  both  for  the  review  itself 
and  for  appreciative  and  affectionate  references  to  his  writings 
in  the  Dublin,  which  in  the  heat  of  controversy  he  had  over- 
looked until  Bishop  Ullathorne  had  at  this  time  called  his 
attention  to  them.     The    '  yours    affectionately '  reappeared 
in  this    letter,  and    although    Ward    later  on    published   an 
apologia  for  the  policy  of  the  Dublin  Review  which  Newman 
had  deplored,  active  opposition  between  them  was  henceforth 
at  an  end. 

Newman  was  eager  to  claim  allies  among  the  trained 
theologians,  and  welcomed  an  argument  from  Canon  Neville 
of  Maynooth,  which  took  up  ground  somewhat  different  from 
his  own,  yet  supported  one  of  his  conclusions.  Some  of  his 
friends,  who  found  his  own  arguments  more  persuasive  than 
those  of  Dr.  Neville,  misunderstood  his  acquiescence  in  the 
Maynooth  professor's  argument — as  we  see  in  the  following 
letter : 

To  Lord  Blachford. 

'The  Oratory  :  Ap.  11,  1875. 

*  My  dear  Blachford, — .  .  .  As  to  my  pamphlet,  what  you  say 

of  its  success  agrees,  to  my  surprise  as  well  as  my  pleasure, 

with  what  I  hear  from  others.     What  surprises  me  mo.st  is  its 

success  among  my  own  people.     I  had  for  a  long  time  been 

'  The  tcxl  of  this  letter  is  given  in  the  Appendix  al  p.  565. 


4o8  LIFE  OF  CARDINAL  NEWMAN 

urged  by  my  friends  to  write — but  I  persisted  in  saying  that 
I  would  not  go  out  of  my  way  to  do  so.  When  Gladstone 
wrote,  I  saw  it  was  now  or  never,  and  I  had  so  vivid  an 
apprehension  that  I  should  get  into  a  great  trouble  and  rouse 
a  great  controversy  round  me,  that  I  was  most  unwilling  to 
take  up  my  pen.  I  had  made  a  compact  with  myself,  that,  if 
I  did  write,  I  would  bring  out  my  whole  mind,  and  specially 
speak  out  on  the  subject  of  what  I  had  in  a  private  letter 
called  an  "  insolent  and  aggressive  faction  " — so  that  I  wrote 
and  printed,  I  may  say,  in  much  distress  of  mind.  Yet 
nothing  happened  such  as  I  had  feared.  For  instance.  Ward 
is  unsaying  in  print  some  of  his  extravagances,  and  a  priest 
who  with  others  has  looked  at  me  with  suspicion  and  is  a 
good  specimen  of  his  class,  writes  to  me,  "  I  hope  everybody 
will  read  it  and  re-read  it.  .  .  I  may  also  congratulate  you 
that  you  have  carried  with  you  the  Catholic  mind  of  England, 
and  made  us  feel  but  one  pulse  of  Ultramontane  sympathy 
beating  in  our  body — May  God  give  you  length  of  days  &c." 
In  Ireland  Cardinal  Cullen  spoke  of  me  in  the  warmest 
terms  in  his  Lent  Pastoral,  read  in  all  the  churches  of  his 
diocese,  and  my  friend  Dr.  Russell  of  Maynooth,  who  had 
been  frightened  at  the  possible  effect  of  some  of  my  pages, 
wrote  to  me,  after  being  present  at  a  great  gathering  of 
bishops  and  priests  from  all  parts  of  Ireland,  on  occasion 
of  Archbishop  Leahy's  funeral,  that  I  had  nothing  to  fear, 
for  there  was  but  one  unanimous  voice  there,  and  that  was  in 
my  favour. 

'  Of  course  as  time  goes  on  "  the  clouds  may  return  after 
the  rain" — but  anyhow  I  have  cause  for  great  thankfulness — 
and  I  trust  that  now  I  may  be  allowed  to  die  in  peace.  Old 
age  is  very  cowardly — at  least  so  I  find  it  to  be. 

'  As  to  Canon  Neville's  passage,  you  must  recollect 
what  a  strong  thing  it  is  to  tell  the  party  spirit,  and  the 
enthusiasm,  and  the  sentiment  unreasoning  and  untheo- 
logical,  of  Catholics,  that  the  Pope  is  ever  to  be  disobeyed^ 
not  to  speak  of  the  political  partisans  of  his  cause  and  the 
tyranny  of  newspaper  editors.  To  quote  a  Maynooth  pro- 
fessor who  could  say  that  the  Pope  need  not  be  obeyed 
in  the  critical  case  of  an  English  war  against  him,  that 
his  command  was  to  be  resisted  on  any  motive,  for  any 
reason,  that  this  was  the  ride  in  such  a  case,  was  to  possess  a 
great  ally,  who  would  block  any  attack,  any  annoyance, 
which  my  words  might  have  caused.  Recollect,  the  contract 
under  which  soldiers  are  bound  holds  as  soon  as  it  is  found 
to  be    lawful.     And    Canon    Neville's    argument  secures  its 


THE   GLADSTONE   CONTROVERSY   (1874-1878)      409 

legality.     Nor  did   I   at  all  mean,  as  the  Saturday   thinks, 
to  withdraw  my  own  ground. 

'  The  Jesuits,  as  usual,  have  stood  my  friends.  One  of 
them  only,  F.  Botalla,  without  the  sympathy  of  the  body, 
has  made,  in  a  Liverpool  paper,  five  charges  against  me — but 
we  have  stood  to  our  guns  and  all  but  silenced  him. 

'  I  don't  forget  that  }'ou  have  done  all  in  your  power 
to  get  me  to  Devonshire,  but  an  old  man  is  a  coward  in 
physical  action  as  well  as  in  moral  ;  I  am  afraid  of  accidents. 
During  that  week  last  September  when  I  was  away  from 
home  I  had  or  nearly  had  two.  In  the  dark,  getting  out 
of  the  railway  carriage,  my  foot  dived  into  the  space  between 
the  carriage  and  the  platform — and  on  getting  out  of  a 
chaise  I  fell  and  barely  escaped  its  wheel.  And  besides, 
why  I  don't  know,  I  am  always  well  at  home,  scarcely  ever 
when  I  leave  it. 

'  I  am  so  grieved  at  what  you  say  of  your  sister.  She  is 
before  me  as  she  was  near  forty  years  ago,  when  last  I  saw 
her.     What  a  dream  life  is  ! 

'  Ever  yours  affly, 

John  H.  Newman.'  ^ 

Mr.  Gladstone  published  a  second  pamphlet  in  April,  and 
Newman  rejoined  in  a  postscript  which  further  explained 
and  developed  some  of  the  positions  he  had  maintained 
in  his  letter. 

The  success  of  the  '  Letter  to  the  Duke  of  Norfolk  '  led 
Newman  to  feel  that  the  work  of  Monsignor  Fessler,  Secre- 
tary-General to  the  Vatican  Council,  on  '  True  and  False  In- 
fallibility,' of  which  he  had  made  effective  use  in  his  pamphlet, 
ought  to  be  available  for  English  readers.    Ambrose  St.  John 
threw  himself  with  energy  into  the  work  of  translating  it. 
He  knew — as  perhaps  none  of  the  other  Fathers  did — how 
deeply  Newman  had  at  heart  the  work  of  spreading  a  strictly 
theological  analysis  of  Catholic  doctrine,  such  as  would  win 
the  wider  and  deeper  minds  of  the  coming  generation.     It 
was  a  moment  of  great  and  unexpected  success  and  bright 
hope.     And  then  suddenly  came  a  blow,  crushing  and  over- 
whelming.     St.  John  broke  down   from    overwork.      There 
were  fears  lest  he  might  permanently  lose  his  reason.     Then 
for  a  moment  there  were  hopes  of  recovery — followed  by  his 

'  Further  letters  relative  to    the  Letter  to   the   Duke   of  Norfolk   and    Mr. 
Gladstone's  pamphlet  will  be  found  in  the  Appendix  at  p.  559. 


4IO  LIFE   OF   CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

death,  which  was  sudden  at  the  last,  at  Rednal  in  May.  Of 
this  loss  of  the  dearest  friend  of  his  later  life  Newman  writes 
as  follows  to  Lord  Blachford  : 

'  The  Oratory  :  May  31,  1875. 

'  My  dear  Blachford, —  I  cannot  use  many  words,  but  I 
quite  understand  the  kind  affectionateness  of  your  letter  just 
come.  I  answer  it  first  of  the  large  collection  of  letters 
which  keen  sympathy  with  me  and  deep  sorrow  for  their 
loss  in  Ambrose  St.  John  have  caused  so  many  friends  to 
write  to  me.  I  cannot  wonder  that,  after  he  has  been  given 
me  for  so  long  a  time  as  32  years,  he  should  be  taken  from 
me.  Sometimes  I  have  thought  that,  like  my  patron  saint 
St.  John,  I  am  destined  to  survive  all  my  friends. 

'  From  the  first  he  loved  me  with  an  intensity  of  love,  which 
was  unaccountable.  At  Rome  28  years  ago  he  was  always 
so  working  for  and  relieving  me  of  all  trouble,  that  being 
young  and  Saxon-looking,  the  Romans  called  him  my  Angel 
Guardian.  As  far  as  this  world  was  concerned  I  was  his 
first  and  last.  He  has  not  intermitted  this  love  for  an  hour 
up  to  his  last  breath.  At  the  beginning  of  his  illness  he 
showed  in  various  ways  that  he  was  thinking  of  and  for  me. 
That  illness  which  threatened  permanent  loss  of  reason, 
which,  thank  God,  he  has  escaped,  arose  from  his  overwork 
in  translating  Fessler,  which  he  did  for  me  to  back  up  my 
letter  to  the  Duke  of  Norfolk.  I  had  no  suspicion  of  this 
overwork  of  course,  but  which  reminds  me  that,  at  that  time, 
startled  at  the  great  and  unexpected  success  of  my  pamphlet, 
I  said  to  him,  "  We  shall  have  some  great  penance  to  balance 
this  good  fortune." 

'  There  was  on  April  28  a  special  High  Mass  at  the 
Passionists  two  miles  from  this.  He  thought  he  ought  to 
be  there,  and  walked  in  a  scorching  sun  to  be  there  in  time. 
He  eot  a  sort  of  stroke.  He  never  was  himself  afterwards. 
A  brain  fever  came  on.  After  the  crisis,  the  doctor  said  he 
was  recovering — he  got  better  every  day — we  all  saw  this. 
On  his  last  morning  he  parted  with  great  impressiveness  from 
an  old  friend,  once  one  of  our  lay  brothers,  who  had  been 
with  him  through  the  night.  The  latter  tells  us  that  he  had 
in  former  years  watched,  while  with  us,  before  the  Blessed 
Sacrament,  but  he  had  never  felt  Our  Lord  so  near  him,  as 
during  that  night.  He  says  that  his  (A.'s)  face  was  so 
beautiful  ;  both  William  Neville  and  myself  had  noticed  that 
at  different  times  ;  and  his  eyes,  when  he  looked  straight  at  us, 
were  brilliant  as  jewels.  It  was  the  expression,  which  was  so 
sweet,  tender,  and  beseeching.    When  his  friend  left  him  in  the 


THE   GLADSTONE   CONTROVERSY  (1874-1878)       411 

morning,  Ambrose  smiled  on  him  and  kissed  his  forehead,  as 
if  he  was  taking  leave  of  him.  Mind,  we  all  of  us  thought 
him  getting  better  every  day.  When  the  doctor  came,  he 
said  the  improvement  was  far  beyond  his  expectation.  He 
said  "  From  this  time  he  knows  all  you  say  to  him,"  though 
alas  he  could  not  speak.  I  have  not  time  to  go  through  that 
day,  when  we  were  so  jubilant.  In  the  course  of  it,  when  he 
was  sitting  on  the  side  of  his  bed,  he  got  hold  of  me  and 
threw  his  arm  over  my  shoulder  and  brought  mc  to  him  so 
closely,  that  I  said  in  joke  "  He  will  give  me  a  stiff  neck." 
So  he  held  me  for  some  minutes,  I  at  length  releasing  myself 
from  not  understanding,  as  he  did,  why  he  so  clung  to  me. 
Then  he  got  hold  of  my  hand  and  clasped  it  so  tightly  as 
really  to  frighten  me,  for  he  had  done  so  once  before  when  he 
was  not  himself  I  had  to  get  one  of  the  others  present  to 
unlock  his  fingers,  ah !  little  thinking  what  he  meant.  At 
7  P.M.  when  I  rose  to  go,  and  said  "  Good-bye,  I  shall  find  you 
much  better  to-morrow,'  he  smiled  on  me  with  an  expression 
which  I  could  not  and  cannot  understand.  It  was  sweet  and 
sad  and  perhaps  perplexed,  but  I  cannot  interpret  it.  But 
it  was  our  parting.  W.  N.  says  he  called  me  back  as  I  was 
leaving  the  room,  but  I  do  not  recollect  it. 

'  About  midnight  I  was  awakened  at  the  Oratory,  with  a 
loud  rapping  at  the  door,  and  the  tidings  that  a  great  change 
had  taken  place  in  him.  We  hurried  off  at  once,  but  he  had 
died  almost  as  soon  as  the  messenger  started.  He  had  been 
placed  or  rather  had  placed  himself  with  great  deliberation 
and  self-respect  in  his  bed — they  had  tucked  him  up,  and 
William  Neville  was  just  going  to  give  him  some  arrowroot 
when  he  rose  upon  his  elbow,  fell  back  and  died. 

'  I  daresay  Church  and  Copeland,  and  Lord  Coleridge, 
will  like  to  see  this  —will  you  let  them  ? 

'  Ever  yours  affectionately, 

John  II.  Newman.' 

His  friends  among  the  holy  women  dedicated  to  the 
religious  life  gave  him  a  sympathy  which  he  gratefully 
appreciated. 

To  Mother  Imelda  Poole,  the  Prioress  of  the  Dominicans, 
he  writes  : 

'  I  thank  God  for  having  given  him  to  me  for  so  long. 

'  I  thank  Him  for  taking  him  away  when  there  was  a 
chance  for  him  of  a  living  death. 

'  1  thank  Him  for  having  given  mc  this  warning  to  make 
haste  myself  and  prepare  for  His  coming.' 


412  LIFE   OF  CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

He  writes  to  Sister  Maria  Pia  : 

'  What  a  faithful  friend  he  has  been  to  me  for  32  years  • 
yet  there  are  others  as  faithful.  What  a  wonderful  mercy  it 
is  to  me  that  God  has  given  me  so  many  faithful  friends  ! 
He  has  never  left  me  without  support  at  trying  times.  How 
much  you  did  for  me  in  the  Achilli  trial,  (and  at  other  times) 
and  I  have  never  thanked  you,  as  I  ought  to  have  done. 
This  sometimes  oppresses  me — as  if  I  was  very  ungrateful. 
You  truly  say  that  you  have  seen  my  beginning,  middle,  and 
end.  Since  his  death,  I  have  been  reproaching  myself  for 
not  expressing  to  him  how  much  I  felt  his  love — and  I  write 
this  lest  I  should  feel  the  same  about  you,  should  it  be  God's 
will  that  I  should  outlive  you.^  I  have  above  mentioned  the 
Achilli  matter,  but  that  is  only  one  specimen  of  the  devotion, 
which  by  word  and  deed  and  prayer,  you  have  been  con- 
tinually showing  towards  me  most  unworthy.  I  hope  I 
don't  write  too  small  for  your  eyes.' 

There  are  allusions  to  his  loss — for  the  most  part  brief 
and  significant  in  their  brevity — in  many  letters  of  this  time. 

He  writes  to  Miss  Holmes  :  '  This  is  the  greatest  affliction 
I  have  had  in  my  life,  and  so  sudden.  Pray  for  him  and  for 
me.'  '  I  doubt  not,'  he  writes  to  another  friend,  '  or  rather 
perceive,  that  this  most  severe  blow  was  necessary  to  pre- 
pare me  for  death,  for  nothing  short  of  it  could  wean  me 
from  life.'  To  another  he  says  :  '  I  do  not  expect  ever  to  get 
over  the  loss  I  have  had.  It  is  like  an  open  wound  which  in 
old  men  cannot  be  healed.' 

For  a  moment,  in  a  letter  of  June  5  to  Father  Walford,  he 
allows  himself  to  dwell  a  little  more  fully  on  the  thought  of 
the  past. 

To  THE  Rev.  John  Walford,  S.J. 

'  The  Oratory  :  June  2,  1S75. 

'  I  cannot  be  surprised  that  after  so  long  a  period  as  thirty- 
two  years  Our  Lord  should  recall  what  He  had  given  me. 
Was  it  not  wonderful  that,  when  I  was  stripped  of  friends, 
God  should  have  given  me  just  one  who  was  ever  to  be  faith- 
ful to  me  and  to  supply  all  needs  to  me?  In  1847  at  Rome 
they  used  to  call  him,  as  being  fair  and  Saxon-looking,  my 
Angel  Guardian,  and  certainly  he  has  been  to  me  "  Azarias 
the  son  of  Ananias."  This,  of  course,  made  me  love  him  ; 
but  what  has  so  greatly  moved  me  and  made  me  fear  that  I 
shall  be  so  far  below  him  if  I  ever  get  to  Heaven  that  he  will 
not  notice  me,  is  his  fulness  in  good  works.  He  was  ever 
'  He  did  outlive  her.     Miss  Gibern    died  in  December  1885. 


THE   GLADSTONE  CONTROVERSY  (1874-1878)       413 

doing  something  good.  I  could  not  take  a  walk  with  him 
except  on  Sundays,  for  he  was  always  visiting  the  sick  or  the 
like,  when  he  went  out.  He  seemed  never  to  have  recreation 
when  he  was  at  home, — though  his  asthma,  &c.,  forced  him 
from  time  to  time  abroad — so  punctual  [was  he]  in  his  devo- 
tions; and  again  in  his  studies;  and  he  was  ever  doing  too 
much  in  the  school.  In  this  illness,  he  took  up  with  him  to 
Ravenhurst  some  work  of  St.  John  of  the  Cross  to  translate — 
and  what  was  the  cause  of  his  illness  and  death  was  his 
translation  of  Fessler  in  the  midst  of  other  work.' 

After  Ambrose  St.  John's  death  others  may  have  seemed 
lesser  events  by  comparison  ;  but  they  came,  and  they  deep- 
ened the  sorrows  of  Newman's  declining  years.  William 
Wilberforce  went  in  the  summer  ;  so  too  did  the  faithful 
matron  of  the  Oratory  School,  Mrs.  Wootten.  Father 
Caswall  in  the  following  year  was  pronounced  by  the  doctors 
to  be  hopelessly  ill.  Others,  once  his  friends,  though  now 
either  long  separated  from  him  or  estranged,  passed  away — 
as  Richard  Simpson  and  J.  D.  Dalgairns.  Newman's  letters 
dwell  constantly  on  these  losses.  A  new  degree  of  sadness 
and  solemnity  is  apparent  in  them,  little  relieved  by  brighter 
thoughts. 

To  Lord  Blackford. 

'August  loth,  1875. 

'  .  .  .  I  was  in  London  on  my  way  to  Surbiton  to  bid 
farewell  to  W.  Wilberforce  and  his  wife.  They  both  have 
had  strokes  of  paralysis — but  hers  is  a  gradual  decay, 
while  he  (as  it  appears)  will  be  carried  off  suddenly.  He 
feels  very  much  being  stripped  of  all  his  brothers,  and  nearly 
all  his  friends.  It  is  48  years  this  month  since  I  made  his 
acquaintance  at  Hampstead,  when  I  was  coaching  Henry 
Wilberforce  and  Golightly  (aged  both  of  them  20  I  think) 
before  I  knew  you.  Her  I  have  known  in  a  way  for  70  years, 
for  my  grandmother's  house  was  next  to  her  father's  and  the 
children  in  that  way  got  acquainted — nearly  all  I  recollect 
about  it,  however,  is  the  boys  sending  off  a  rocket  on  the 
5th  of  November. 

'  W.  W.'s  little  son,  whom  you  recollect  a  fair-haired  little 
boy,  has  the  look  of  an  elderly  man,  seamed  in  face,  and  with 
the  effect  of  having  lost  his  teeth.  The  grandson  is  a  fine 
tall  fellow  of  (say)  24.  Thus  "  one  generation  passeth  away 
and  another  cometh  "  and  everyone  is  his  own  centre  as  if  he 
were  not  one  of  a  throng — and  it  is  all  vanitas  vamtatuni.' 


414  LIFE   OF   CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

To  Sister  Mary  Gabriel. 

'December  27,  1875. 

'  You  refer  to  St.  John's  age.  Yes,  I  often  think,  can  it 
be  God's  will  that,  as  the  beloved  disciple  outlived  all  his 
brethren,  I  too  am  to  have  a  portion  of  that  special  cross  of 
his  ?  Dear  Mrs.  Poncia,  who  went  so  unexpectedly  two 
years  ago,  used  to  say  on  this  day  to  me  "  Many,  many 
returns  of  it "  :  I  used  to  answer,  "  You  don't  wish  me  to 
outlive  you  all" — and  she  answered,  "Yes,  till  90  or  100 
years  " — Then  I  said,  "  O  how  cruel !  " 

'  Of  late  I  have  often  thought  whether  it  was  God's  will 
that  I  should  have  the  trial  of  seeing  those  I  loved  die 
before  me — but  it  was  a  very  ungrateful  thought  to  be 
suggested  to  me  by  God's  great  mercy  in  keeping  me  so 
well  in  health.  Was  it  not  enough  to  provoke  Him  to  visit 
me  with  sickness  and  suffering?  Well,  I  am  in  His  Hands — 
and  I  can  but  repeat  what  I  found  among  dear  Father 
Ambrose's  morning  prayers,  "  Do  with  me  what  Thou  wilt  ; 
I  shall  ever  be  in  peace  if  I  live  and  die  in  Thy  love." 

'  May  God  be  with  you  also  as  He  has  been  with  me  ; 
not  only  for  25  years,  but,  as  He  has  been  with  you  for  so 
long  a  time,  so  also  to  the  end— and  with  me  too,  till  we  all 
meet  in  the  bosom  of  our  God.' 

To  Sister  Maria  Pia. 

'  I  am  now  entering  a  series  of  anniversaries  of  friends. 
Tomorrow,  the  19th,  died  my  oldest  friend,  Richard  West- 
macott — on  the  21st  my  greatest  school  friend,  Hans 
Hamilton — on  the  22nd  Samuel  Wood — on  the  23rd  Henry 
Wilbcrforce — on  the  24th  Henry  Woodgate — and  on  May  ist 
Isaac  Williams. 

'  Only  may  we  be  ready,  when  our  time  comes  ! ' 

To  Mother  Imelda  Poole. 

'  December  29,  1876. 

'  We  are  losing  one  of  our  great  props,  to  speak  humanly, 
Father  Caswall.  He  is  one  of  four  who  one  after  another 
have  generously  thrown  themselves  and  all  they  had  into  my 
hands — and  whose  loyalty  and  love  God  only  can  repay — 
my  dear  Father  Ambrose  St.  John,  Father  Joseph  Gordon, 
Mrs.  Wootten,  and  P'ather  Caswall.  Three  have  gone,  the 
fourth  is  going.  I  trust  they  may  do  something  for  me 
according  to  God's  Blessed  Will  in  compensation  for  my 
bereavement    in    losing    them.      And    when    am    I    to  join 


THE   GLADSTONE    CONTROVERSY  (1874-1878)       415 

them  ?    What  a  thick  darkness  is  over  the  future!     Pray  that 
I  may  be  ready  whenever  the  time  comes.' 

To  Sister  Maria  Pia. 

•The  Oratory:  Jan.  22,  1878. 

'  It  is  natural  that  you  should  look  with  anxiety  towards 
the  future.  The  better  you  are,  the  more  will  the  prospect 
before  you  be  solemn.  Again,  the  older  you  are,  the  more 
you  realize  what  is  to  come.  To  younger  people  the  unseen 
state  is  a  matter  of  words — but  as  to  people  of  our  age  they 
say  to  themselves,  "  For  what  I  know  I  shall  be  in  that 
unknown  state  tomorrow—"  and  that  is  very  awful. 

'  So  you  must  not  allow  yourself  to  be  disturbed — but  the 
more  you  feel  that  you  have  to  give  an  account,  you  must 
look  in  faith,  hope  and  love,  towards  our  Lord  Jesus,  the 
Supreme  Lover  of  souls,  and  your  abiding  Strength,  towards 
the  Blessed  Virgin,  and  to  St.  Francis.  They  won't  forsake 
you  in  your  extremity,  and  your  Guardian  Angel  will  be 
faithful  to  the  end.  .  .  . ' 

His  general  gloom  in  these  years  showed  itself  in 
melancholy  thoughts  concerning  the  future  of  the  world 
and  the  immediate  prospects  of  the  Church.  Kis  keen  eye 
discerned  the  spread  of  principles,  in  the  society  of  the  day, 
which  must  issue  in  the  widespread  decay  of  Christian  belief 
and  in  all  the  sadness  of  a  world  of  sorrow  without  hope, 
which  those  who  hailed  the  prospect  as  an  emancipation 
realised  so  little.  The  following  letters  are  samples  of  many 
such  belonging  to  this  period  : 

To  Mrs.  Maskell. 

'The  Oratory:  Jan.  4,  1876. 

'  I  thank  you  very  much  for  your  most  kind  letter,  and 
reciprocate  your  good  wishes  for  the  New  Year  with  all  my 
heart,  both  as  regards  yourself  and  Mr.  Maskell.  The  begin- 
ning of  the  year  has  always  something  very  impressive  in  it, 
from  the  darkness  which  closes  it  in  and  only  retreats  day  by 
day.  Such  mystery,  though  exciting  in  the  case  of  the  young 
and  vigorous,  has  a  very  different  effect  upon  us  when  we 
have  got  old — but,  just  at  this  time,  its  most  solemn  thought 
is  when  it  i3  dwelt  upon  in  connection  with  the  fortunes  of 
the  Church.  What  a  future,  what  awful  events  lie  under  that 
cloud.  I  don't  mean  as  to  happen  in  this  very  year,  but  as 
awaiting  their  birth  in  the  years  which  lie  before  us.  I  don't 
know  if  you  are  well  acquainted  with  the  "  Christian  Year  " — if 


4i6  LIFE  OF  CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

so,  you  will  know  that  present  always  to  the  Author's  mind 
was  "  the  awful  future  as  it  nearer  draws  " — and  though  I 
don't  mean  to  say  that  the  end  is  coming,  at  least  we  are  soon 
to  enter  upon  a  new  cycle  of  sacred  history.  Also,  we  are 
told  that,  when  the  end  actually  does  come,  there  will  be  the 
same  hit]jh  hopes,  promise  of  good,  jubilation,  mutual  con- 
gratulations, prosperity,  and  self  confidence,  to  the  virtual  or 
actual  denial  of  God,  which  is  at  present  so  rife  and  so 
growing.' 

To  THE  Same. 

'  The  Oratory  :  Jan.  6th,  1877. 
'  As  to  the  prospects  of  the  Church,  as  to  which  you  ask 
my  opinion,  you  know  old  men  are  generally  desponding — 
but  my  apprehensions  are  not  new,  but  above  50  years 
standing.  I  have  all  that  time  thought  that  a  time  of  wide- 
spread infidelity  was  coming,  and  through  all  those  years  the 
waters  have  in  fact  been  rising  as  a  deluge.  I  look  for  the 
time,  after  my  life,  when  only  the  tops  of  the  mountains  will 
be  seen  like  islands  in  the  waste  of  waters.  I  speak 
principally  of  the  Protestant  world — but  great  actions  and 
successes  must  be  achieved  by  the  Catholic  leaders,  great 
wisdom  as  well  as  courage  must  be  given  them  from  on 
high,  if  Holy  Church  is  to  (be)  kept  safe  from  this  awful 
calamity,  and,  though  any  trial  which  came  upon  her 
would  but  be  temporary,  it  may  be  fierce  in  the  extreme 
while  it  lasts.' 

To  Dr.  Noble. 

'June  i6th,  1877. 
'  Thank  you  for  your  thoughtful  and  valuable  paper.  The 
spread  of  scepticism  is  portentous — and  the  great  mischief 
is  that  there  is  a  general  antecedent  leaning  to  the  side  of 
unbelief,  as  the  more  reasonable  and  probable.  A  notion 
prevails  that  great  changes  are  coming,  so  that  men  believe 
atheism  before  they  have  discovered  revelation.  As  you 
say.  Authority  at  least  has  a  claim  that  the  orius  probatidi 
should  not  be  thrown  upon  its  side.  You  are  taking  at  Man- 
chester a  more  useful  and  important  line  for  your  Academia, 
than  they  have  chosen  in  London,  as  it  seems  to  me.' 

To  Mr.  a.  H.  Cullen. 

'  The  Oratory,  Birmingham  ;  July  12th,  1877. 

'  Your  letter  is  a  very  good  one — very  much  to  the  point 
and  deserving  a  serious  answer,  but  that  answer  cannot  be 
given  in  few  words. 


THE   GLADSTONE   CONTROVERSY  (1874-1878)       417 

*  It  is  quite  true  that  Christianity  should  be  far  more 
efFective  to  make  men  what  it  preaches  than  it  is.  This  will 
not  always  be  so,  if  we  interpret  the  prophecies  rightly — but 
that  it  was  to  be  so  at  least  at  first,  and  for  a  season,  is  plain 
from  our  Lord's  and  St.  Paul's  intimations.  Our  Lord 
speaks  of  the  Church  as  a  net  which  gathered  all  kinds  of 
fishes,  good  and  bad  ;  of  the  sower  and  his  failures  ;  of  the 
wheat  and  cockle  ;  of  the  foolish  virgins  ;  of  the  evil  servant 
who  ate  and  drank  with  drunkards.  St.  Paul  of  dangerous 
times,  when  men  shall  be  covetous,  without  affection,  incon- 
tinent, &c.,  &c.  And  the  Corinthians,  his  converts,  were 
guilty  of  sins  which  are  marvellous  in  their  strangeness  under 
the  circumstances. 

'  Then  as  to  Catholics  being  worse  than  Protestants, 
&c.,  I  think  you  must  recollect  that  the  corruptio  optimi  est 
pessima.  And  in  our  Lord's  day,  though  "  salvation  was  of  the 
Jews,"  they  seem  to  have  been  as  a  people  in  a  worse  state 
than  the  Samaritans. 

'  It  is  a  wonderful  phenomenon — but  I  think  history  tells 
us  that  the  fierce  Goths,  &c.,  who  came  down  upon  the  Roman 
Empire  had  the  moral  virtues  as  the  Roman  Christians  had 
them  not. 

'  One  is  led  to  say  that  those  Christian  people,  forming 
the  Roman  State,  were  visited  with  the  scourge  of  God,  on 
account  of  their  sins. 

'  And  one  is  led  to  fear  a  similar  judgment  for  similar 
reasons  is  sweeping,  or  will  sweep,  over  the  Church  now. 

'But  of  course  I  speak  under  the  correction  of  those  who 
have  a  right  to  speak  with  decision.' 

To  Baron  von  Hugel.^ 

'  Rednal  :  July  30,  1877. 

*  I  quite  understand  your  great  anxiety.  And  of  course 
you  make  me  anxious  what  to  say  also — what  to  say,  that 
is,  controversially. 

'  I  fear  I  must  go  very  deep  and  say  this  to  the  friend 
who  made  such  an  objection.  Do  you  or  do  you  not  believe 
in  a  Personal  God  and  Moral  Governor  ?  If  you  do  not,  then 
it  is  useless  arguing — for  if  there  is  no  God,  there  is  no 
Revelation,  no  Church. 

'  But  if  you  do,  then  do  not  all  such  difficulties  resolve 
themselves  in  the  great  difficulty  of  the  origin  of  evil  ? 

'  B.iron  von  Hiigel  had  consulted  Dr.  Newman  as  to  the  best  reply  to  be  given 
to  one  who  felt  that  the  scandals  in  Church  history  were  a  decisive  argument  against 
the  claims  of  the  Church. 

VOL.  II.  E  E 


4i8  LIFE   OF   CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

'  If  indeed  you  say,  "  The  existence  of  evil  proves  there  is 
no  Almighty  Ruler,"  then,  I  repeat,  I  have  not  to  defend 
Revelation,  for  if  there  is  no  God,  there  is  no  Revelation,  but 
if  there  be  a  God  in  spite  of  the  fact  of  evil,  then  why  do  you 
make  an  objection  to  particulars,  which  are  all  included  in 
the  fact  of  evil  ?  What  wonder,  if  evil  is  so  strong  as  it  is,  that 
Revealed  Truth  should  have  a  hard  battle  with  it  ?  This  is 
indeed  the  Scripture  account  of  it.  It  says  "  the  world  lieth 
in  evil"  S.  John  V,  19.  I  can  quite  understand,  shocking 
as  it  is,  a  man's  saying  "  The  existence  of  evil  by  itself 
proves  there  is  no  God," — there  is  the  field  of  battle — but 
to  argue,  "  the  existence  of  evil  in  the  Church  is  a  proof  that 
the  Church  is  not  from  God,"  is  not  going  to  the  root  of  the 
matter,  but  trifling  with  a  mere  instance  of  a  great  and 
fearful  fact  instead  of  going  straight  to  that  fact  itself 

'  The  fact  of  evil  cannot  be  denied — the  whole  of  Revela- 
tion not  only  allows,  but  requires  it.  All  through  Scripture 
a  warfare  with  evil  is  made  the  very  raison  d'etre  of  a 
Revelation.  There  need  have  been  no  Revelation,  except 
for  the  existence  of  evil.  The  disasters  and  defeats  of  the 
Church  are  presupposed  in  Scripture.  A  time  indeed  is 
predicted  when  Truth  will  prevail,  but  that  time  is  known 
to  God  alone. 

'  I  am  always  doubtful  whether  what  I  feel  myself  will 
strike  another.  Write  to  me  again  if  you  think  I  can  say 
anything  to  the  purpose.  All  kind  thoughts  of  the  Baroness 
and  the  little  child. 

'  Ever  yours  most  sincerely, 

John  H.  Newman.' 

Newman's  principal  solace  lay  in  work — in  continuing  the 
task  of  revising  and  editing  his  early  writings.^ 

'  Wonderful,'  he  writes  to  Dean  Church,  *  if  I  am  kept 
to  see  a  second  generation  here  I  want  to  get  through 
my  papers,  and  to  revise  the  volumes  which  remain  as 
I  published  them,  the  "Prophetical  Office,"  "  Athanasius," 
and  "  Doctrinal  Development,"  and  fancy  I  shall  then  hail 
my  Nunc  dimittis.' 

Two  of  the  reprints  referred  to  in  this  letter  had  special 
importance.  The  '  Essay  on  Development '  was  his  greatest 
contribution  to  religious  thought  and  also  contained  the  main 
argument  which  brought  him  to  the  Catholic  Church.     It  had 

'  From  his  correspondence  at  this  time  some  further  extracts  are  given  in 
the  Appendix  at  p.  566. 


THE   GLADSTONE   CONTROVERSY  (1874-1878)       419 

(as  we  have  seen)  been  attacked  as  in  part  at  variance  with 
the  traditional  teaching  of  the  Roman  schools.  He  had 
ever  maintained  that  this  view  was  based  on  a  misconception. 
And  he  had  ever  held  the  argument  of  the  Essay  to  be  essen- 
tial to  any  satisfactory  reply  to  modern  agnosticism.  To 
make  himself  then  once  more  responsible  for  its  contents, 
by  reprinting  it  with  notes  and  alterations  as  a  contribution 
to  Catholic  theology,  was  a  step  of  great  importance.  But 
almost  equally  important  in  the  event  proved  his  republica- 
tion of  the  Tracts  and  lectures  in  which  he  had  sketched  the 
Via  Media  he  had  marked  out  for  the  Church  of  England  in 
the  heyday  of  the  Oxford  Movement.  He  had  again  been 
speaking,  as  he  did  before  writing  the  '  Letter  to  the  Duke  of 
Norfolk,'  as  though  his  work  were  done,  and  he  was  waiting  in 
daily  expectation  of  his  passing  bell  ;  but  once  more  circum- 
stances led  him  to  break  his  resolution.  To  what  he  began 
as  a  reprint,  with  notes,  of  his  Anglican  Tracts,  he  was  led  in 
the  end  to  add  an  introductory  Essay  of  high  importance. 

When  Newman  came  to  revise  his  own  attack  on  the 
Roman  Catholic  system,  written  in  the  days  of  the  Oxford 
Movement,  he  found  that  a  great  deal  of  it  was  sound  and 
true.  But,  as  he  now  recognised,  it  was  in  reality  a  criticism 
not  on  the  Church  itself,  or  on  the  Catholic  religion,  but  on  the 
action  of  Catholic  peoples  or  rulers  in  special  circumstances. 
Since  he  had  been  a  Catholic  he  had  himself  had  experiences 
which  greatly  tried  him.  He  had  therefore  found  consolation  in 
recognising  this  distinction.  And  in  a  letter  to  Lord  Blachford, 
written  in  1867,  he  had  further  traced  the  source  of  his  trial 
to  another  fact.  The  Catholic  Church  was  a  body  politic,  as 
well  as  the  maintainer  of  a  special  creed  and  theology. 
The  ecclesiastical  rulers  had  to  consider  the  life  of  devotion 
among  the  many,  and  the  interests  of  order  and  of  self-defence 
for  the  community,  as  well  as  accuracy  in  the  intellectual 
statement  of  beliefs  involved  in  the  Catholic  religion.  Rule, 
devotion,  and  theology  were  three  separate  aspects  of  Catholic 
life,  each  necessary,  and  yet  often  having  conflicting  interests. 
He  regarded  his  very  latest  trial — namely,  the  events  accom- 
panying the  Vatican  Council  —  as  a  case  illustrative  of  this 
general  fact.  The  doctrine  of  Papal  Infallibility  had  been,  he 
complained,    regarded    by    a    certain    party  as  a  '  luxury  of 

E  E  2 


420  LIFE   OF  CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

devotion.'  It  supplied  a  great  rallying  cry,  and  made  for  loyal 
devotion  and  esprit  de  corps.  The  definition  was,  moreover, 
held  to  be  an  important  practical  step  in  the  existing  state 
of  ecclesiastical  politics — a  check  on  the  dangerous  '  Liberal 
Catholic '  movement  in  Germany,  which  apart  from  its  more 
scientific  aspect  was  sometimes  marked  by  a  censorious  and 
even  disloyal  attitude  towards  the  Roman  See  ;  and  this  was 
a  moment  when  Rome  was  in  trouble  and  needed  a  united 
phalanx  of  defenders.  Thus  the  interests  of  rule  and  of 
devotion  were  in  favour  of  the  definition.  And  Newman's 
complaint  had  been  that  the  interests  of  intellectual  accu- 
racy— the  exhibition  of  the  consistency  of  the  dogma  with 
acknowledged  theological  principles  and  historical  facts — had 
been  inadequately  attended  to.  Conflicting  interests  had  been 
apparent  in  his  earlier  trials  also.  In  the  difficulties  presented 
in  his  early  Catholic  life  by  the  Oratorian  Saints'  Lives  also, 
the  interests  of  popular  devotion  had  been  on  one  side,  those 
of  scientific  treatment  of  evidence  on  the  other.  Athwart 
both  these  interests  had  come  a  third — guarded  especially  by 
the  Bishops — namely,  prudent  rule  and  consideration  for  the 
feelings  of  the  hereditary  English  Catholics,  to  whom  foreign 
devotional  literature  appeared  extravagant.  Again,  the  rule 
of  Propaganda,  which  he  had  regarded  as  at  times  injurious 
to  intellectual  interests,  arose  from  England's  holding  techni- 
cally the  position  of  a  missionary  country.  The  same  system 
did  not  act  badly  in  other  missionary  countries  where  the 
condition  of  society  was  ruder.  This  was  again  an  instance 
of  rules  made  for  the  Church  as  a  polity  proving  injurious  to 
theological  efficiency. 

The  whole  modern  Ultramontane  movement,  inaugurated 
by  Joseph  de  Maistre,  was  indeed  largely  one  of  sentimental 
loyalty  to  the  central  authority,  affecting  devotion  and 
rule  far  more  than  theology.  Critics  external  to  the  Church 
identified  these  several  interests.  Ultramontanism  was 
spoken  of  as  aggressive.  Regarded  as  a  theology  the  term 
was  quite  inapplicable.  The  doctrine  was  that  of  the  gentle 
F^nelon,  and  Newman  himself  had  ever  held  it.  It  was 
not  more  aggressive  than  Gallicanism  in  its  typical  repre- 
sentatives. Bossuet  was  certainly  not  less  militant  than  his 
great   rival.      It  was   the   attempt  to  utilise    Ultramontane 


THE   GLADSTONE   CONTROVERSY  (1874-1878)       421 

doctrine  in  the  cause  of  undue  centralisation,  and  practically 
to  suspend  the  functions  of  the  theological  schools,  which 
was  aggressive  and  tyrannical  in  Newman's  eyes.  And 
this  was  a  defect  not  of  the  doctrine  itself  or  of  Catholic 
theology  as  such,  but  of  over-enthusiastic  individual  rulers 
and  followers.  It  did  not  relate  to  the  Catholic  creed  or  its 
analysis,  but  to  the  Catholic  polity  and  its  action.  If  there 
was  much  in  the  existing  state  of  the  Church  that  was  trying 
to  one  like  Newman,  to  whom  the  interests  of  exact  and 
deep  Christian  thought  as  a  breakwater  against  infidelity 
were  all-important,  this  did  not,  provided  that  the  above 
distinctions  were  kept  clear,  cast  any  slur  on  the  truth  and 
sanctity  of  the  Catholic  religion.  Yet  friends  and  foes  alike 
were  apt  to  lose  sight  of  such  distinctions,  and  to  identify 
interests  which  were  in  reality  disparate.  They  were  apt  to 
regard  the  militant  action  of  a  Church  in  time  of  persecu- 
tion, as  normal,  and  due  rather  to  the  nature  of  the  Catholic 
religion  than  to  the  circumstances  of  the  time. 

Owing  to  the  fact  that  intellectual  interests  were  not, 
in  his  opinion,  given  full  and  fair  play,  Newman  had  hitherto 
considered,  as  we  have  seen,  that  it  was  only  in  the  shape 
of  polemical  writing,  rebutting  the  exaggerated  charges  of 
outsiders,  that  he  could  successfully  advocate  a  wider  and 
more  comprehensive  view  than  was  generally  current.  It 
was  as  the  advocate  of  the  Catholic  cause  against  its  critics 
rather  than  of  the  interests  of  theological  accuracy,  that  he 
could  best  carry  with  him  the  sympathy  of  his  co-religionists. 
He  had  done  so  successfully  in  1864  in  answer  to  Kingsley. 
He  had  done  so  again  in  1866  in  reply  to  Pusey,  and  yet 
again  in  1875  in  answer  to  Gladstone.  Now  there  was 
indeed  no  eminent  living  assailant  of  the  Catholic  Church  to 
reply  to.  But  in  reading,  with  a  view  to  their  republication, 
the  old  Tracts  of  1837,  he  found  in  his  dead  Anglican  self  the 
foe  whom  he  sought.  He  prefixed  to  the  republished  Tracts 
— which  he  entitled  'Via  Media' — an  introduction  of  high 
interest  and  value,  called  by  him  only  a  '  preface,'  and 
inserted  with  no  display  and  little  suggestion  of  its  special 
importance.  In  it  he  mapped  out  the  plan  of  the  Church, 
drawing  the  all-important  distinction  between  the  three  fields 
of  Catholic  action. 


422  LIFE   OF   CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

*  Christianity,'  he  wrote  in  this  Prefatory  Essay,  '  is  at 
once  a  philosophy,  a  political  power,  and  a  religious  rite  ;  as 
a  religion  it  is  Holy  ;  as  a  philosophy,  it  is  Apostolic  ;  as  a 
political  power,  it  is  imperial,  that  is  One  and  Catholic.  As 
a  religion,  its  special  centre  of  action  is  pastor  and  flock  ;  as 
a  philosophy,  the  Schools  ;  as  a  rule,  the  Papacy  and  its 
Curia. 

'  Though  it  has  exercised  these  three  functions  in  sub- 
stance from  the  first,  they  were  developed  in  their  full 
proportions  one  after  another,  in  a  succession  of  centuries  ; 
first,  in  the  primitive  time  it  was  recognised  as  a  worship, 
springing  up  and  spreading  in  the  lower  ranks  of  society,  and 
among  the  ignorant  and  dependent,  and  making  its  power 
felt  by  the  heroism  of  its  Martyrs  and  confessors.  Then  it 
seized  upon  the  intellectual  and  cultivated  class,  and  created 
a  theology  and  schools  of  learning.  Lastly  it  seated  itself, 
as  an  ecclesiastical  polity,  among  princes,  and  chose  Rome 
for  its  centre. 

'  Truth  is  the  guiding  principle  of  theology  and  theological 
inquiries  ;  devotion  and  edification,  of  worship  ;  and  of  govern- 
ment, expedience.  The  instrument  of  theology  is  reasoning  ; 
of  worship,  our  emotional  nature  ;  of  rule,  command  and 
coercion.  Further,  in  man  as  he  is,  reasoning  tends  to 
rationalism  ;  devotion  to  superstition  and  enthusiasm  ;  and 
power  to  ambition  and  tyranny. 

'  Arduous  as  are  the  duties  involved  in  these  three  offices, 
to  discharge  one  by  one,  much  more  arduous  are  they  to 
administer,  when  taken  in  combination.  Each  of  the  three 
has  its  separate  scope  and  direction  ;  each  has  its  own 
interests  to  promote  and  further  ;  each  has  to  find  room  for 
the  claims  of  the  other  two  ;  and  each  will  find  its  own  line 
of  action  influenced  and  modified  by  the  others,  nay,  some- 
times in  a  particular  case  the  necessity  of  the  others  converted 
into  a  rule  of  duty  for  itself. 

' "  Who,"  in  St.  Paul's  words,  "  is  sufficient  for  these 
things  ? "  Who,  even  with  divine  aid,  shall  successfully 
administer  offices  so  independent  of  each  other,  so  divergent, 
and  so  conflicting?  What  line  of  conduct,  except  on  the 
long,  the  very  long  run,  is  at  once  edifying,  expedient,  and 
true  ?  Is  it  not  plain,  that,  if  one  determinate  course  is  to  be 
taken  by  the  Church,  acting  at  once  in  all  three  capacities, 
so  opposed  to  each  other  in  their  idea,  that  course  must,  as 
I  have  said,  be  deflected  from  the  line  which  would  be  traced 
out  by  any  one  of  them,  if  viewed  by  itself,  or  else  the 
requirements  of  one  or  two  sacrificed  to  the  interests  of  the 


THE   GLADSTONE   CONTROVERSY   (1874-1878)       423 

third  ?  What  for  instance,  is  to  be  done  in  a  case  when  to 
enforce  a  theological  point,  as  the  Schools  determine  it,  would 
make  a  particular  population  less  religious,  not  more  so,  or 
cause  riots  or  risings  ?  Or  when  to  defend  a  champion  of 
ecclesiastical  liberty  in  one  country  would  encourage  an  Anti- 
Fope,  or  hazard  a  general  persecution,  in  another?  or  when 
either  a  schism  is  to  be  encountered  or  an  opportune  truth 
left  undefined  ? 

*  All  this  was  foreseen  certainly  by  the  Divine  Mind,  when 
He  committed  to  His  Church  so  complex  a  mission  ;  and, 
by  promising  her  infallibility  in  her  formal  teaching,  He 
indirectly  protected  her  from  serious  error  in  worship  and 
political  action  also.  This  aid,  however,  great  as  it  is,  does 
not  secure  her  from  all  dangers  as  regards  the  problem  which 
she  has  to  solve  ;  nothing  but  the  gift  of  impeccability  granted 
to  her  authorities  would  secure  them  from  all  liability  to 
mistake  in  their  conduct,  polic}',  words  and  decisions,  in  her 
legislative  and  her  executive,  in  ecclesiastical  and  disciplinarian 
details  ;  and  such  a  gift  they  have  not  received.  In  conse- 
quence, however  well  she  may  perform  her  duties  on  the 
whole,  it  will  always  be  easy  for  her  enemies  to  make  a  case 
against  her,  well  founded  or  not,  from  the  action  or  interaction, 
or  the  chronic  collisions  or  contrasts,  or  the  temporary 
suspense  or  delay,  of  her  administration,  in  her  three  several 
departments  of  duty, — her  government,  her  devotions,  and 
her  schools, —  from  the  conduct  of  her  rulers,  her  divines,  her 
pastors,  or  her  people.' 

The  interests  of  devotion,  in  so  far  as  devotion  depends  on 
preserving  the  most  fundamental  religious  beliefs,  are  the  most 
essential.  The  securing  of  intellectual  accuracy  in  matters 
less  fundamental  is  not  so  important.  The  first  condition  of 
the  influence  of  religion,  is  to  preserve  for  the  many  their 
hold  on  the  reality  of  the  world  behind  the  veil  and  their 
general  trust  in  Christianity.  Such  fundamental  beliefs  are 
protected  for  them  by  the  existing  theology.  The  customary 
interpretation  of  Holy  Writ,  and  the  well-worn  explanations 
in  the  theological  text-books,  become  for  many  minds,  by  force 
of  habit,  inseparably  bound  up  with  their  faith  in  the  super- 
natural. To  throw  doubt  on  this  or  that  detail  in  the  existing 
structure  by  introducing  novel  opinions  might  be  (Newman 
argues)  for  such  minds  to  shake  or  destroy  the  whole — 
truth  and  incidental  error  alike.  Great  caution  was  thus  a 
duty  when  questioning  long-accepted  views  as  to  the  meaning 


424  LIFE    OF   CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

of  Holy  Writ,  lest  the  faith  of  the  many  should  be  imperilled. 
Views  which  have  long  been  in  possession  must  not  be  lightly 
set  aside  on  the  strength  of  ingenious  scientific  hypotheses. 

'  To  the  devotional  mind,'  he  writes,  '  what  is  new  and 
strange  is  as  repulsive,  often  as  dangerous,  as  falsehood  is  to 
the  scientific.  Novelty  is  often  error  to  those  who  are  un- 
prepared for  it,  from  the  refraction  with  which  it  enters  into 
their  conceptions.' 

As  to  the  upsetting  effect  on  faith,  of  new  discoveries  at 
variance  with  traditionary  beliefs,  the  Galileo  case  was  the 
stock  instance  which  he  naturally  quoted.  And  it  could 
ever  be  used  with  effect  for  more  than  one  reason.  It 
brought  about  in  its  time  a  change  as  drastic  in  the  received 
theological  opinions,  and  in  the  interpretation  of  Scripture,  as 
any  which  the  more  recent  scientific  hypotheses  demanded. 
The  theologians  long  resisted  the  change.  They  finally 
yielded.  Thus  the  incident  was  an  excellent  illustration,  at 
once  of  the  conservative  genius  of  Catholic  theology  as 
against  mere  hypothesis,  and  yet  of  its  capacity  to  so  far 
modify  its  seemingly  uncompromising  attitude  as  eventually  to 
assimilate  those  hypotheses  should  they  become  proved  facts. 

Newman  loyally  defended  a  certain  reserve  and  tender- 
ness for  the  weak,  in  conducting  theological  discussions. 
Nevertheless  he  plainly  indicated  his  own  view  that  the 
danger  of  the  time  in  which  he  lived  lay  in  carrying  this 
principle  too  far.  '  I  know  well,'  he  writes,  '  that  "  all  things 
have  their  season,"  and  that  there  is  not  only  "a  time  to 
keep  silence,"  but  "a  time  to  speak,"  and  that,  in  some 
states  of  society,  such  as  our  own,  it  is  the  worst  charity, 
and  the  most  provoking,  irritating  rule  of  action,  and  the 
most  unhappy  policy,  not  to  speak  out,  not  to  suffer  to  be 
spoken  out,  all  that  there  is  to  say.  Such  speaking  out  is 
under  such  circumstances  the  triumph  of  religion,  whereas 
concealment,  accommodation,  and  evasion  is  to  co-operate 
with  the  spirit  of  error  ; — but  it  is  not  always  so.' 

Now  again,  as  when  he  replied  to  Gladstone,  if  he  wrote 
at  all  on  these  great  questions  he  held  it  to  be  his  duty  to 
express  his  dissatisfaction  with  the  polemics  of  some  of  his 
co-religionists.  Hence  we  find  in  the  Preface  the  following 
significant  sentence ; 


THE   GLADSTONE   CONTROVERSY   (1874-1878)       425 

'  It  is  so  ordered  on  high  that  in  our  day  Holy  Church 
should  present  just  that  aspect  to  my  countrymen  which  is 
most  consonant  with  their  ingrained  prejudices  against  her, 
most  unpromising  for  their  conversion ;  and  what  can  one 
writer  do  against  this  misfortune  ?  ' 

The  Preface  to  the  'Via  Media '  (as  he  called  the  repub- 
lished lectures)  naturally  did  not  arouse  any  such  wide  atten- 
tion as  the  '  Letter  to  the  Duke  of  Norfolk '  had  called  forth. 
But  it  was  well  received  among  Catholics,  the  Jesuits  in  the 
Month  and  W.  G.  Ward  in  the  Dublin  Review  speaking  of 
it  with  special  admiration. 

At  the  end  of  1877,  while  Newman  was  still  hard  at  work, 
feeling  that  his  time  was  short,  and  anxious  before  he  died 
to  complete  the  revision  of  all  his  works,  there  came  amid 
the  sorrows  of  loss  the  happier  accompaniments  of  extreme 
old  age — namely,  the  tokens  of  public  recognition  of  his  life 
of  devotion  and  high  example. 

His  old  college  (Trinity)  made  him  an  honorary  Fellow  ; ' 
R.  W.  Church  announced  another  mark  of  honour  shortly  to 
come  from  Oriel.  Mr.  James  Bryce  was  eager  to  present 
to  him  his  picture  painted  by  a  great  artist — Mr.  Ouless. 
A  similar  request  came  from  his  own  parishioners  in 
Birmingham.  Gladstone  referred  to  him  in  a  public 
speech  in  terms  which  were  so  laudatory  as  to  seem  to 
him  extravagant.  '  Although,'  he  writes  to  Church,  '  I  am 
truly  grateful  for  Gladstone's  kindness,  I  am  frightened 
at  it.  It  was  to  most  men's  apprehensions  out  of  place,  and 
I  dread  a  reaction.' 

But  these  manifestations  of  respect  and  sympathy  did 
something  to  soothe  one  of  his  temperament  amid  all 
the  heavy  trials  of  advancing  life.  '  I  do  not  know  when 
I  have  been  so  much  pleased,'  he  writes  of  the  offer  from 
Trinity.  But  before  accepting  it  he  notified  the  occurrence 
to  his  Bishop,  Dr.  Ullathorne,  giving  him  thereby  an 
opportunity  of  raising  any  objection  to  his  acceptance  of 
what  was  offered  if  he  saw  one. 

•  Mr.  Raper,  now  Senior  Fellow  of  Trinity,  first  suggested  this  graceful  com- 
pliment. The  thought  came  to  him,  he  tells  me,  when  looking  at  Newman's 
picture  in  the  Common  room. 


426  LIFE    OF   CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

«  The  Oratory  :  Dec.  1 8,  1877. 

'  My  dear  Lord, — I  have  just  received  a  great  compli- 
ment, perhaps  the  greatest  I  have  ever  received,  and  I  don't 
Hke  not  to  tell  you  of  it  one  of  the  first. 

'  My  old  College,  Trinity  College,  where  I  was  an  under- 
graduate from  the  age  of  16  to  21,  till  I  gained  a  Fellowship 
at  Oriel,  has  made  me  an  Honorary  Fellow  of  their  Society. 
Of  course  it  involves  no  duties,  rights  or  conditions,  not  even 
that  of  belonging  to  the  University,  certainly  not  that  of 
having  a  vote  as  Master  of  Arts,  but  it  is  a  mark  of  extreme 
kindness  to  me  from  men  I  have  never  seen,  and  it  is  the  only 
instance  of  their  exercising  their  power  since  it  was  given 
them. 

'  Trinity  College  has  been  the  one  and  only  seat  of  my 
affections  at  Oxford,  and  to  see  once  more,  before  I  am  taken 
away,  what  I  never  thought  I  should  see  again,  the  place 
where  I  began  the  battle  of  life,  with  my  good  angel  by  my 
side,  is  a  prospect  almost  too  much  for  me  to  bear. 

'  I  have  been  considering  for  these  two  days,  since  the 
offer  came  to  me,  whether  there  would  be  any  inconsistency 
in  my  accepting  it,  but  it  is  so  pure  a  compliment  in  its  very 
title  that  I  do  not  see  that  I  need  fear  its  being  interpreted 
by  the  world  as  anything  else. 

'  Begging  your  Lordship's  blessing,  I  am  your  obedient 
and  affectionate  servant  in  Christ, 

John  H.  Newman. 

'  P.S. — The  Pope  made  me  a  D.D.,  but  I  don't  call  an  act 
of  the  Pope's  a  "  compliment^ ' 

The  new  edition  of  the '  Essay  on  Development '  was  ready, 
and  Newman  wished  to  dedicate  it  to  the  Fellows  of  Trinity 
as  a  thankoffering  for  the  honour  they  had  conferred  on  him. 
His  letters  on  this  subject  to  R.  W.  Church — whom  he 
commissioned  to  sound  Mr.  Waytc,  the  President,  as  to  how 
far  the  offering  would  be  acceptable  to  the  college — are  very 
characteristic  in  their  minute  thoughtfulness  for  others,  and 
as  showing  Newman's  desire  to  do  precisely  what  would  be 
most  agreeable  to  all  those  concerned  as  well  as  what  was 
congenial  to  his  own  grateful  feelings. 

'  The  Oratory  :  Deer.  20,  1877. 

'  My  dear  Church, — A  happy  Xmas  to  you  and  yours. 
The  Trinity  Fellows  have  made  me  an  Honorary  Fellow  of 
their  Society.     The  first  they  ever  made. 

'  Yours  affectly 

John  H.  Newman.' 


THE   GLADSTONE   CONTROVERSY  (1874-1878)      427 

To  THE  Same. 

'■Private.  Jan.  21,  1878. 

'  I  am  on  the  point  of  publishing  afresh  a  volume,  which, 
having  no  dedication,  I  thought  I  would  ask  leave  to  dedicate 
to  the  President  of  Trinity. 

*  This  seemed  to  me  a  bright  thought — but  soon  came  a 
fatal  obstacle,  as  I  fear — not  simply  is  it  a  work  in  favour  of 
the  Church  of  Rome — for  in  the  Dedication  I  might  have 
parried  this  difficulty,  but  it  is  my  Essay  on  Development  of 
Doctrine,  which  though  from  beginning  to  end  grave  and 
argumentative,  just  at  the  beginning  and  at  the  end  is  not  so. 

'  Now  it  would  be  a  sad  damper  for  me  to  offer  it  and 
Wayte  to  be  obliged  to  decline  it.  Yet  on  the  other  hand  it 
is  just  possible  that,  if  1  passed  the  idea  over,  he,  at  some 
future  time  on  hearing  it,  might  say  "  Why  did  you  not  tell 
me  ?  I  should  not  have  cared  for  it  at  all."  But  /  in  his 
position  think  I  should  decline  it,  and  that  for  two  reasons. 

'  I  should  say 

'  I.  "  Dr.  Newman  will  make  people  think  he  is  beginning 
a  crusade." 

'2.  "  It  is  unfair  to  Trinity  College,  and  will  do  it  harm 
in  the  world.  It  interprets  their  generous  act  in  the 
Papistical  sense." 

'  If  you  take  this  view  with  me  I  shall  quite  acquiesce  in  it. 

*  I  send  a  sketch  of  the  proposed  Dedication,  and  of  the 
beginning  and  the  end  of  my  book.' 

To  THE  Same. 

'Jany.  23,  1878. 

'  I  return  Mr.  Ouless's  letter.  These  honours,  if  you  are 
right  about  Oriel,  have  a  great  significancy  in  them.  To  use 
sacred  words,  they  are  an  anointing  for  the  burial, — and 
when  I  think  that,  when  the  curtain  is  drawn,  the  first  will 
be  last  and  the  last  first,  the  prospect  makes  one  dizzy. 

'  Since  I  wrote  to  you  the  day  before  yesterday,  it  has 
struck  me  that  I  might  do  this : — print  a  dedication  in 
presentation  copies  to  the  President  and  to  Trinity  Library, 
but  in  no  others  ;  the  published  copies  having  no  dedication. 
In  that  case  it  would  be  as  much  a  private  act  as  "  from  the 
Author,"  then,  in  better  times,  if  there  was  a  new  edition,  the 
Dedication  might  be  printed  and  published.     Think  of  this.' 

A  visit  of  Mr.  Wayte  to  Birmingham  gave  Newman  an 
opportunity  of  consulting  him  directly  as  to  the  publication 
of  the  dedication  of  the  '  Essay  on  Development' 


428  LIFE    OF   CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

To  Dean  Church. 

'  March  I,  1878. 

'  I  am  very  thankful  to  you,  but  very  much  ashamed, 
that  you  should  for  me  have  so  laborious  a  day  as  you  had 
the  day  before  yesterday. 

'  I  also  write  to  pay  you  thanks  for  the  letter  from  you 
which  I  found  on  my  table  on  my  return.  Bryce  rather 
pressed  me  whether  I  had  said  to  you  Yes  or  No — and  I 
seemed  to  myself  very  ungracious  to  a  kind  questioner  not 
to  answer  him.  But  I  think  you  understand  me,  and  I  could 
not  say  to  him  what  I  said  to  you.  I  don't  like  to  be  made 
an  artistic  subject ;  and  Mr.  Ouless'  saying  he  will  come 
down  here  for  nothing  is  as  if  he  paid  me  for  sitting.  I  am 
afraid  of  writing  thus,  lest  I  should  say  something  rude — yet 
I  want  to  defend  myself. 

'  I  have  not  told  you  the  result  of  my  calling  on  Wayte. 
I  opened  by  saying  that  if  he  decided  the  Dedication  should 
not  be  published,  he  would  not  disappoint  me,  for  in  so 
delicate  a  matter  not  to  publish  was  the  safest  course, — and, 
were  I  in  Wayte's  place  I  should  say  no.  Then  he  said 
"  I  should  like  to  think  it  over,  and  will  give  you  my  answer 
by  six  o'clock,  but  at  first  sight  I  must  say  that  I  am  against 
your  publishing  the  Dedication." 

*  I  left  the  volume  with  him — he  returned  it  as  he 
promised  with  a  note  which  began  thus  :  "  My  second  and 
I  hope  better  thoughts  are  that  'you  should  publish.'  I 
have  tried  in  the  intervals  of  a  meeting  of  business,  since  I 
saw  you,  to  weigh  pros  and  cons,  but  I  will  not  trouble  you 
with  my  reasons." 

'  So  you  will  receive  a  copy  with  the  Dedication  in.' 

The  Dedication — which  was  thereupon  published — was 
one  of  those  happy  efforts  of  this  kind  in  which  Newman  had 
few,  if  any,  rivals.     It  ran  as  follows  : 

'  To  THE 

Rev.  Samuel  William   Wayte,  B.D., 

President  of  Trinity  College,  Oxford. 

'  My  dear  President, — Not  from  any  special  interest 
which  I  anticipate  you  will  take  in  this  volume,  or  any 
sympathy  you  will  feel  in  its  argument,  or  intrinsic  fitness  of 
any  kind  in  my  associating  you  and  your  Fellows  with  it, — 
■i'-  *  But,  because  I  have  nothing  besides  it  to  offer  you,  in 
token  of  my  sense  of  the  gracious  compliment  which  you 


THE   GLADSTONE   CONTROVERSY  (1874-1878)       429 

and  they  have  paid  me  in  making  me  once  more  a  member 
of  a  college  dear  to  me  from  undergraduate  memories  ; — 

'  Also  because  of  the  happy  coincidence,  that  whereas 
its  first  publication  was  contemporaneous  with  my  leaving 
Oxford,  its  second  becomes,  by  virtue  of  your  act,  con- 
temporaneous with  a  recovery  of  my  position  there  : — 

*  Therefore  it  is  that,  without  your  leave  or  your  respon- 
sibility, I  take  the  bold  step  of  placing  your  name  in  the 
first  pages  of  what,  at  my  age,  I  must  consider  the  last  print 
or  reprint  on  which  I  shall  ever  be  engaged. 

'  I  am,  my  dear  President,  most  sincerely  yours, 

John  H.  Newman. 

The  Trinity  Fellows  invited  Newman  to  pay  a  visit  to  the 
college,  and  he  did  so  in  February.  He  visited  his  old  rooms 
and  found  the  walls  adorned  by  its  existing  occupant  with 
pictures  of  lights  of  the  theatrical  world.  His  former  tutor, 
Thomas  Short,  was  still  alive,  in  his  89th  year,  and  the  meeting 
between  them  is  remembered  to  have  been  very  affecting. 

Mr.  James  Bryce  (now  our  Ambassador  at  Washington), 
who  proposed  his  health  in  an  after-dinner  speech  which  is 
remembered  as  a  masterpiece,  thus  recalls  the  event  in  a 
letter  to  myself: 

'  In  response  to  the  toast  of  his  health  he  made  a  speech  of 
perhaps  ten  minutes  in  length  or  a  little  more  in  a  delightfully 
simple,  natural  and  genial  vein.  My  recollections  of  what  he 
said  are  now  unfortunately  comparatively  faint,  but  I  remem- 
ber the  exquisite  finish  of  his  expressions  and  the  beautiful 
clearness  of  his  articulation  and  the  sweetness  of  his  voice. 
The  subject  was  so  far  as  I  recollect  mainly  reminiscences  of 
his  college  days  at  Trinity,  and  in  particular  he  referred  to 
one  occasion  when  he  went  to  call  upon  one  of  the  former 
tutors  who  was  still  living,  but  who,  if  I  remember  right,  had 
become  so  feeble  in  body  that  he  was  not  able  to  come  to  the 
dinner.  He  was  tlicn  Senior  Fellow.  That  was  Mr.  Thomas 
Short,  who  was  the  Cardinal's  senior  by,  I  should  think,  8  or 
10  years.  He  mentioned  to  us  that  he  found  Mr.  Short  at 
lunch,  and  I  remember  how  he  entertained  us  by  conveying 
indirectly  and  by  a  sort  of  reference  that  Mr.  Short  was 
lunching  off  lamb  chops.  I  do  not  think  he  mentioned 
directly  that  the  lunch  consisted  of  lamb  chops,  but  he 
played  round  the  subject  in  such  a  way  as  to  convey  that 
lamb  chops  were  on  the  table.  He  spoke  with  the  greatest 
respect    and    reverence    of    Air.  Short,    who   by    that    time 


430  LIFE    OF   CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

had  outlived  all  his  contemporaries.  There  were  other 
pleasing  little  recollections  of  Trinity  as  it  was  in  those  days, 
but  I  cannot  at  this  moment  recollect  the  substance  of  them. 

'  What  struck  us  most  was  the  mixture  of  sadness  and 
pleasure  with  which  he  came  among  us  and  recalled  his  early 
days.  The  reference  in  one  of  his  writings  to  his  rooms  in 
the  college  and  to  a  plant  of  snapdragon  which  grew  upon 
the  wall  opposite  the  window  of  the  room  in  which  he 
lived,  on  what  we  used  to  call  the  "  kitchen  staircase,"  will 
occur  to  your  readers.  I  think  the  reference  is  in  the 
"  Apologia." 

'  There  was  something  tenderly  pathetic  to  us  younger 
people  in  seeing  the  old  man  come  again,  after  so  many 
eventful  j-ears,  to  the  hall  where  he  had  been  wont  to  sit  as  a 
youth,. the  voice  so  often  heard  in  St.  Mary's  retaining,  faint 
though  it  had  grown,  the  sweet  modulations  Oxford  knew  so 
well,  and  the  aged  face  worn  deep  with  the  lines  of  thought, 
struggle  and  sorrow.  The  story  of  a  momentous  period  in 
the  history  of  the  University  and  of  religion  in  England 
seemed  to  be  written  there.' 

Miss  Giberne,  eager  to  hear  all  about  this  memorable 
visit  to  Oxford,  wrote  to  him  for  particulars  and  impressions, 
reminding  him  of  a  graphic  account  by  St.  John  Chrysostom 
of  some  of  his  own  experiences,  and  hoping  that  Newman 
would  tell  with  similar  fulness  the  story  of  the  Oxford  visit. 
She  received  the  following  very  characteristic  reply  : 

'  The  Oratory  :  In  Fest.  S.  Joseph,  1878. 

'  My  dear  Sister  M.  Pia, — Your  letter  just  received  made 
me  both  sigh  and  smile.  I  can  only  say  with  the  "  needy 
knife  grinder,"  "  Story  ?  heaven  bless  you,  I  have  none  to  tell 
you — "  I  assure  you  I  made  no  record  of  my  feelings  when 
I  went  to  Oxford,  and  recollect  nothing.  I  know  it  was  a 
trial  to  me  and  a  pleasure — but  I  could  not  say  more,  if  you 
put  me  on  the  rack.  And,  when  you  talk  of  my  writing, 
you  must  recollect  that  it  is  trouble  to  me  to  write  now,  a 
trouble  both  to  head  and  hand — and,  there  are  so  many 
letters  which  I  am  obliged  to  write,  that,  unless  necessary,  I 
shirk  it. 

'  Now  I  might  sit  for  an  hour  till  I  had  bitten  the  top  of 
my  pen  holder  off,  without  being  able  to  put  down  on  paper 
my  "  impressions,  pains  and  joys  and  reception."  If,  "  like 
St.  John  Chrysostom,"  I  was  called  to  suffer,  perhaps  I  might 
have  something  to  say  about  my  visit ;  but  an  Oriental  is  not 


THE   GLADSTONE   CONTROVERSY  (1874-1878)       431 

a  silent  Englishman,  nor  a  Saint  any  earnest  or  token  of 
what  a  humdrum  mortal  is  in  the  reign  of  Queen  Victoria. 
*  I  can  but  tell  you  that  the  Trinity  Fellows  seem  to  be  a 
pleasing  set  of  men  and  very  kind  to  me,  but  I  suppose  they 
are  very  far  from  the  Church— that  the  Keble  College  people 
were  very  friendly  and  showed  me  over  the  magnificent 
buildings  which  they  have  erected,  and  that  Pusey,  whom 
I  have  not  seen  since  1865,  looks  much  older.  I  had  no  time 
to  go  to  Littlemore — or  indeed  to  do  anything  beyond 
calling  on  Pusey,  at  Oriel,  and  at  Keble  College. 

'  Ever  yrs  affly 

J.  H.  N. 

'  I  don't  forget  what  I  owe  to  your  prayers.' 

The  Oratorian  Fathers  who  remember  that  time  speak 
of  the  years  between  1875  and  1879  as  very  sad  ones  for 
Newman.  His  silence  and  depression  were  very  noticeable 
to  those  who  lived  with  him.  The  death  of  Ambrose 
St.  John  cast  a  shadow  which  could  not  be  removed,  and 
it  was  deepened  by  the  loss  of  other  friends.  What  is 
there  to  look  forward  to .? — was  the  thought  that  would 
come  as  years  advanced  and  strength  diminished.  The 
solemn  conviction  that  he  must  think  no  more  of  an  earthly 
future,  but  prepare  to  follow  his  friends  who  had  gone, 
was  never  absent  from  his  mind.  Yet  what  he  had  done 
as  a  Catholic  seemed  as  yet  so  fragmentary,  so  incom- 
plete, accompanied  with  so  much  of  failure !  During  all 
these  years  he  had  ever  repeated  '  Lead,  kindly  Light, 
amid  the  encircling  gloom.'  He  had  hoped  to  see  a  path 
of  useful  work  open  out  from  the  surrounding  obscurity. 
'  Have  patience  and  the  meaning  of  trial  will  be  made 
clear'  was  the  assurance  which  he  constantly  preached  to 
himself.  Now,  however,  he  was  nearer  eighty  than  seventy, 
and  the  inexorable  march  of  time  seemed  to  bid  him 
finally  to  put  away  further  hope  so  far  as  this  world  was  con- 
cerned. His  life  had  had  its  successes,  and,  in  later  years 
especially,  its  heavy  trials.  The  cloud  which  seemed  to  hang 
over  him,  the  evil  report  in  many  Catholic  circles  of  his  falling 
short  of  whole-hearted  loyalty  to  the  Church,  because  his 
duty  to  truth  had  held  him  back  from  the  extravagant  lan- 
guage which  was  demanded  by  so  many  as  the  watchword  of 


432  LIFE  OF   CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

orthodoxy,  must  be  accepted  as  an  irreversible  fact.  His 
companions  felt  that  these  were  years  of  depression — if  of 
resignation. 

The  Trinity  Fellowship  had  come  most  opportunely,  and 
was  a  real  ray  of  sunshine.  April  1878  saw  another  event 
which  relieved  the  monotony  of  his  life,  namely,  the  election 
to  the  Papal  throne  of  Leo  XI I L  We  may  well  suppose  that 
one  who  was  so  ready  as  Newman  to  see  a  providential  meaning 
in  coincidences  may  have  recalled  words  used  by  him  in  the 
'  Letter  to  the  Duke  of  Norfolk.'  He  had  spoken  in  that  letter 
of  the  exaggerated  interpretations  of  the  great  definition  at 
Ephesus  which  Leo  the  Great  set  right  by  his  condemnation 
at  Chalcedon  of  the  Monophysites.  And  he  applied  the  par- 
able to  the  exaggerated  views  on  the  prerogatives  of  the 
Papacy  which  in  the  eyes  of  some  were  countenanced  by  the 
Vatican  definition.  Should  the  need  arise  (he  adds)  to  set 
right  so  false  an  interpretation  of  its  true  meaning  '  another 
Leo  will  be  given  for  the  occasion  ;  "  in  monte  dominus 
videbit." ' 

The  beginning  of  a  new  Pontificate  was  also  for  other 
reasons  naturally  an  event  which  aroused  him.  And  in  the 
first  year  of  his  reign  the  new  Pope  took  an  opportunity  of 
sending  Newman  a  picture  from  his  own  breviary  with  his 
blessing, — a  gift  which  was  gratefully  recorded  in  a  letter 
to  Miss  Giberne. 

But  Newman  soon  relapsed  into  the  sadness  which  had 
been  for  a  while  somewhat  dissipated  by  these  two  incidents, 
though  he  settled  down  again  into  the  groove  of  work. 
William  Paine  Neville  was  constantly  with  him— taking  in 
some  sort  the  place  left  vacant  by  Ambrose  St.  John's  death. 
*  I  have  only  my  "  Athanasius  "  to  publish  now,'  he  wrote  to  a 
friend,  '  in  order  to  get  all  my  books  off  my  hands.  Then,  as 
far  as  I  can  tell,  I  shall  have  no  more  to  do  with  writing 
books.'  Working  and  praying,  sad  yet  resigned,  he  awaited 
the  great  summons  which  he  felt  might  come  any  day. 


CARDINAL    NEWMAN. 
From  a  Painting  by  iV.  IF.  Ouless,  K.A.,  at  the  Oratory,  Uinnins^ham. 


CHAPTER  XXXIII 

THE   CARDINALATE   (1879) 

Newman  had  now,  in  the  revision  of  his  works,  reached  the 
final  volume — '  Athanasius ' — and  his  health  was  still  excellent 
and  his  powers  unimpaired.  It  was  twenty  years  since  he 
had  written  to  W.  G.  Ward  that  he  felt  the  age  had  come  at 
which  a  sudden  visitation  might  terminate  his  life.  Such  fears 
were  ever  with  him,  and  his  prolonged  well-being  seemed 
no  less  than  a  marvel.  His  Christmas  greetings  to  Lord 
Blachford,  written  on  Christmas  eve,  1878,  show  him  still  well 
and  still  at  work,  but  ready  at  any  time  for  the  impending 
summons : 

'  I  wish  you  and  Lady  Blachford  were  as  well  as  to  all 
appearance  I  am — but  I  never  can  quite  get  out  of  my  mind 
the  chance  of  the  "ignes"  under  the  "  cineri  doloso" — tho' 
the  metaphor  is  unsuitable — I  mean  the  chance  of  paralysis, 
which  is  so  insidious  and  so  sudden,  and  has  taken  off  so 
many  of  my  friends  and  acquaintances. 

'  I  am  at  my  last  volume,  the  "  Athanasius  " — and  find  it 
very  tough  work.' 

He  had,  a  little  earlier,  written  what  purported  to  be  his 
last  entry  in  the  private  journal  from  which  we  have  so  often 
quoted.  That  entry  recorded  a  feature  in  his  career  with 
which  his  friends  would  have  to  deal  after  he  was  gone. 
And  his  solemn  words  were  written  for  posterity  in  comment 
on  a  long  and  now  completed  life : 

'  I  notice  the  following  lest  the  subject  should  turn  up 
when  I  am  gone,  and  my  friends  be  perplexed  how  to  deal 
with  it. 

'  I  have  before  now  said  in  writing  to  Cardinals  Wiseman 
and  Barnabo  when  I  considered  myself  treated  with  slight 
and  unfairness,  "  So  this  is  the  return  made  to  me  for  working 
for  the  Catholic  cause  for  so  many  years,"  i.e.  to  that  effect. 
VOL.  II.  F  F 


434  LIFE  OF  CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

•  I  feel  it  still,  and  ever  shall, — but  it  was  not  a  disap- 
pointed ambition  which  I  was  then  expressing  in  words,  but 
a  scorn  and  wonder  at  the  injustice  shown  me,  and  at  the 
demand  of  toadyism  on  my  part  if  I  was  to  get  their  favour, 
and  the  favour  of  Rome. 

*  I  knew  perfectly  well,  when  I  so  wrote,  that  such  lan- 
guage would  look  like  disappointment  at  having  received  no 
promotion,  and  moreover  was  the  worst  way  of  getting  it. 
But  I  had  no  wish  to  get  it,  and  it  was  my  very  consciousness 
that  I  never  had  had  such  aspiration,  nor  felt  any  such 
disappointment,  and  was  simply  careless  whether  they 
thought  I  had  or  no,  that  made  me  thus  speak.  And  at 
other  times  of  my  life  also  I  have  used  words  which,  when  I 
used  them,  I  saw  could  be  used  against  me,  but  did  not  care 
whether  they  were  so  used  or  not,  from  a  clear  conscience 
that  it  would  be  a  mistaken  use  of  them,  if  they  were. 
When  I  wrote  to  the  two  Cardinals,  I  had  that  strength  of 
conviction  that  I  never  had  had  any  notion  of  secular  or 
ecclesiastical  ambition  for  writing  my  volumes,  which  made 
me  not  hesitate  to  denounce,  if  I  may  so  speak,  at  the  risk 
of  being  misunderstood,  the  injustice,  for  so  I  felt  it,  which 
had  been  shown  towards  me.  This  I  did  feel  very  keenly  ; 
I  was  indignant  that  after  all  my  anxious  and  not  un- 
successful attempts  to  promote,  in  my  own  place  and 
according  to  my  own  measure,  the  Catholic  cause,  my  very 
first  mistake  in  the  Rambler,  supposing  it  one,  should  have 
been  come  down  upon,  my  former  services  neither  having 
been  noticed  favourably  when  they  were  done,  nor  telling 
now  as  a  plea  for  mercy. 

'  As  to  my  freedom  from  ambitious  views,  I  don't  know 
that  I  need  defend  myself  from  the  imputation  of  them. 
Qui  s'excuse,  s'accuse.  But  in  fact  I  have  from  the  first 
presaged  that  I  should  get  no  thanks  for  what  I  was  doing, 
(a  presage  which  has  only  come  true  in  that  sense  in  which 
I  did  not  care  about  its  being  true,  and  which  God's  un- 
deserved mercy  has  falsified  or  rather  reversed  in  a  higher 
sense,  for  He  has  heaped  upon  me  the  acknowledgments 
and  the  sympathies,  for  what  I  have  written,  of  friends  and 
strangers  far  beyond  my  deserts).  But  as  to  my  presage 
that  I  should  gain  no  secular  reward  for  my  writings,  I  have 
expressed  it  many  times,'  .  .  . 

'  He  proceeds  to  give  instances  :  '  i.  In  1836  (as  I  understand  Copeland)  in 
a  letter  which  I  wrote  to  Pusey  on  occasion  of  the  Hampden  matter,  and  which 
he  has,  though  I  have  not  seen  it. 

'  2.  In  1837  in  my  letter  to  the  Christian  Observer  :  "  Never  were  such  words 
used  on  one  side,   but   deeds   were   on   the  other.     We  know  our   place   and 


THE   CARDINALATE   {1879)  435 

'  I  am  dissatisfied  with  the  whole  of  this  book.  It  is 
more  or  less  a  complaint  from  one  end  to  the  other.  But  it 
represents  what  has  been  the  real  state  of  my  mind,  and 
what  my  Cross  has  been. 

*  O  how  light  a  Cross — think  what  the  Crosses  of  others 
are  !  And  think  of  the  compensation,  compensation  in  even 
this  world^I  have  touched  on  it  in  a  parenthesis  in  the 
foregoing  page.  I  have  had,  it  is  true,  no  recognition  in  high 
quarters — but  what  warm  kind  letters  in  private  have  I  had  ! 
and  how  many!  and  what  public  acknowledgments!  How 
ungrateful  I  am,  or  should  I  be,  if  such  letters  and  such 
notices  failed  to  content  me.'  ^ 

In  the  summer  of  1878  events  were  occurring  which  were 
to  bring  about  a  great  change  in  Newman's  position,  and  to 
falsify  some  of  these  words  written  in  the  autumn  of  1876. 
Pius  IX.  had  gone  ;  Leo  XIII.  had  come.  It  was  an  acknow- 
ledged fact  that,  in  spite  of  his  love  for  Pius  IX.,  Newman 
had  not  sympathised  with  that  Pontiff's  policy.  And  he 
had  been  under  a  cloud  in  the  official  Roman  world.  The 
natural  reaction  of  opinion— the  swing  of  the  pendulum  from 
one  Pontificate  to  another — seemed  to  some  of  Newman's 
friends  a  golden  opportunity  for  securing  for  his  great 
work  for  the  Church  the  formal  approval  from  Rome  itself 
which  had  so  long  been  withheld.  A  Cardinal's  Hat  was 
suggested  in  one  quarter,  and  the  idea  spread  rapidly.  The 
Duke  of  Norfolk  was  felt  to  be  the  natural  person  to  express 
the  wide-spread  desire  of  the  English  Catholic  community. 
The  Duke  entered  into  the  idea  with  the  utmost  keenness 
and,  in  conjunction  with  Lord  Petre  and  Lord  Ripon,  secured 
Cardinal  Manning's  approval.  Manning  undertook  to  broach 
the  subject  in  Rome.  In  the  event,  however,  his  representa- 
tions were  not  communicated  to  Leo.  XIII.  until  after  the 
Pontiff  had  learnt  from  the  Duke  himself  how  strongly  the 
honour  was  desired  by  Newman's  friends. 

our  fortunes,  to  give  a  witness,  and  to  be  contemned  ;   to  be  ill-used  and  to 
succeed." 

'  3.   In  1845  to  Cardinal  Acton,  Apol.  pp.  235,  236. 

'  4.  In  1S50  in  a  sermon  at  St.  Chad's,  "  As  to  ourselves,  the  world  has  long 
ago  done  its  worst  against  us.   .   .  .  We  know  our  place  and  our  fortunes,  &c.' 

'  5-   In  1856  in  a  sermon  at  Dublin  quoted    bove.' 

'  This  entry  came  to  an  end  at  the  bottom  of  the  last  page  of  the  MS.  book. 
He  never  kept  another  journal,  and  only  added  some  years  later  these  words  at 
the  foot  of  the  page  :   •  Since  writing  the  above  I  have  been  made  a  Cardinal  ! ' 

K  K  2 


436  LIFE   OF  CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

The  Duke  writes  as  follows,  in  a  letter  to  the  present 
biographer,  of  the  feelings  which  moved  him  to  take  action 
in  the  matter,  and  of  the  interview  at  which  he  spoke  of  it 
to  Leo  XI I L  himself: 

'  I  was  moved  very  much  by  the  feeling  that  it  was  due 
to  Newman  himself  that  his  long  life  of  marvellous  and 
successful  labour  for  religion  should  receive  the  highest  mark 
of  recognition  which  the  Holy  See  could  give  him.  I  felt 
this  all  the  more  keenly  because  I  knew  how  much  had 
happened  to  obscure  the  character  of  the  work  he  had  done 
and  the  results  of  it.  I  knew  that  it  must  be  an  intense 
sorrow  to  him  to  feel  that  he  and  his  life's  work  were  not 
understood  in  that  very  quarter  of  which  he  had  made  him- 
self the  special  champion.  But  my  chief  reason  for  moving 
in  the  matter  was  based  on  more  general  grounds.  I  do  not 
chink  that  any  Catholic  has  been  listened  to  by  those  who 
are  not  Catholics  with  so  much  attention,  respect  and,  to  a 
great  extent,  sympathy  as  Newman.  But  while  numbers 
were  brought  by  him  to  see  and  to  accept  the  truth,  I  felt 
very  strongly  that  the  full  outcome  of  his  labours  was  most 
unhappily  limited  by  the  impression  which  was  made  to 
prevail  by  a  certain  school  of  well  intentioned  people  that  he 
did  not  really  speak  the  mind  of  the  Church  or  represent  the 
beliefs  which  the  Church  called  upon  her  children  to  accept. 
It  appeared  to  me  then  that  the  same  causes  which  kept 
from  him  the  full  and  public  approbation  of  the  Holy  See 
were  impeding  his  usefulness  to  his  fellow  countrymen. 
They  in  their  turn  persuaded  themselves  that  the  arguments 
and  example  of  Newman  could  be  admired  by  them  as 
showing  what  a  grand  and  beautiful  and  divinely  authori- 
tative institution  the  Catholic  Church  might  be,  but  that 
they  were  not  called  upon  to  obey  that  authority  because  the 
opinion  held  of  Newman  by  many  Catholics  showed  that  the 
Catholic  Church  was  not  really  what  Newman  said  it  was. 
It  appeared  to  me  therefore  that  in  the  cause  both  of  justice 
and  of  truth  it  was  of  the  utmost  importance  that  the  Church 
should  put  her  seal  on  Newman's  work. 

'  It  happened,  quite  accidentally,  that  I  was  in  Rome 
when  this  question  was  first  brought  before  the  Holy  See. 
I  believed  that  representations  from  myself  and  others  had 
been  submitted  to  the  Pope  and  I  therefore  spoke  to 
Leo  XIII.  on  the  subject.  I  found  that  this  was  the  first 
mention  to  him  of  the  matter,  and  I  had  therefore  to  ex- 
plain the  situation  as  well  as  I  was  able.     I  was  very  careful 


THE   CARDINALATE    (1879)  437 

to  impress  upon  the  Pope  that  there  was  a  section  of  opinion 
in  England  which  would  not  be  in  sympathy  with  my  sugges- 
tion. I  did  this  not  only  because  it  would  have  been  wrong 
to  have  led  the  Pope  to  believe  that  everyone  was  of  the 
same  mind  with  myself  or  to  appear  to  claim  support  in 
quarters  in  which  an  opinion  different  from  mine  prevailed  ; 
but  also  because  I  was  most  anxious  that  if  Newman  should 
be  created  a  Cardinal  it  should  be  after  the  fullest  considera- 
tion and  enquiry  on  the  part  of  the  Holy  See,  that  it  should 
not  be  a  request  granted  out  of  complaisance  to  those  who 
made  it,  but  that  what  was  to  be  done  should  be  an  emphatic 
act  of  deliberate  judgment. 

'  I  should  be  sorry  to  be  supposed  to  be  in  any  way  cen- 
suring those  who  looked  with  doubt  or  suspicion  on  much 
of  what  Newman  had  written  and  who  regarded  his  being 
made  a  Cardinal  as  giving  a  dangerous  sanction  to  unfortunate 
teaching.  Among  those  who  held  this  opinion  were  able  and 
holy  men,  and  on  some  points  and  on  some  occasions  I  have 
felt  much  in  sympathy  with  them.  But  it  appeared  to  me 
that  they  allowed  small  points  to  outweigh  the  great  under- 
lying fact  of  all  that  Newman  was  doing.  They  failed  to 
realize  that  no  one  was  able  to  bring  Catholic  truth  to  the 
intelligence  of  his  countrymen  as  Newman  could,  because, 
among  other  reasons,  he  had  shown  them  that  he  understood, 
in  a  way  no  other  Catholic  writer  did,  the  difficulties  which 
perplexed  them.  I  thought  too  they  forgot  that  there 
were  hundreds  who  had  been  brought  into  the  Church  by 
private  correspondence  with  Newman,  and  that  to  them 
it  would  be  an  untold  consolation  and  strengthening  to 
see  him  receive  the  highest  recognition  which  could  be  con- 
ferred upon  him.  Many  too  who  were  anxious  to  see  the 
spread  of  what  were  called  ultramontane  views  seemed  to 
forget  that  to  no  one  more  than  to  Newman  could  they  turn 
for  lofty  and  unflinching  testimony  to  the  august  majesty  of 
the  Holy  See  and  the  high  claims  of  the  Pope  upon  our  trust 
and  allegiance.  Again  it  was  sometimes  urged  that  in  Newman 
intellectual  qualities  were  allowed  somewhat  to  overcloud  the 
simplicit)'  of  Catholic  faith.  But  it  would  be  difficult  indeed 
to  gather  from  any  other  writer  than  Newman  such  sublime 
conceptions  of  devotion  to  the  Mother  of  God  or  of  our 
kindred  with  the  saints  ;  and  in  all  this  the  high  intellectual 
insight  is  blended  with  the  most  childlike  tenderness.  I  feel 
very  strongly  that  the  action  of  the  Holy  See  in  making 
Newman  a  Cardinal  brought  out  this  great  side  of  his 
character,  this  great  lasting  teaching  of  his  life,  and  that  in 


438  LIFE   OF   CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

this  act  our  country  received  yet  another  pledge  of  "  Rome's 
unwearied  love."  ' 

The  Pontiff  listened  with  attention  to  the  Duke's  repre- 
sentations and  acceded  to  his  request.  But  nothing  of  what 
had  passed  was  known  to  the  world  at  large  or  to  Newman 
himself. 

A  month  had  passed  since  the  Christmas  letter  to  Lord 
Blachford  before  Newman  himself  received  any  intimation 
of  what  was  proposed.  He  was  in  bed  nursing  a  bad  cold, 
when  a  letter  reached  the  Oratory,  urgently  summoning  him 
to  visit  Bishop  Ullathorne  at  Oscott.  On  receiving  news 
of  Newman's  indisposition,  the  Bishop  asked  to  see  some 
specially  trusted  friend  of  his,  and  Father  Pope  was  forthwith 
despatched  to  Oscott.  He  was  informed  that  Cardinal  Nina 
had  written  to  Cardinal  Manning  intimating  the  Holy  Father's 
desire  to  confer  on  Newman  the  Cardinal's  Hat. 

The  infirmities  of  age  made  it  out  of  the  question  that 
Newman  should  transfer  his  residence  to  Rome.  Yet  all 
Cardinals  who  are  not  also  diocesan  Bishops  or  Archbishops 
reside  as  a  matter  of  course  in  the  Eternal  City.  But  this 
mark  of  confidence  from  the  Holy  See,  after  the  prolonged, 
aching  sense  of  distrust  in  high  quarters,  was  so  unexpected 
and  so  signal,  as  to  be  the  greatest  event  as  well  as  the 
crowning  reward  of  Newman's  life.  '  The  cloud  is  lifted 
from  me  for  ever,'  were  the  words  in  which  he  spoke  of  it 
to  his  Oratorian  brethren.  It  was  just  this  stamp  of  approval 
from  the  Vicar  of  Christ  which  would  make  the  whole 
difference  to  his  power  for  good. 

He  had  for  years  been  scrupulously  loyal  alike  to  truth 
and  conscience,  and  to  ecclesiastical  authority.  He  would  not 
write  on  the  great  questions  of  the  day  without  in  some  way 
intimating  the  things  he  saw  and  felt  so  strongly.  And  when 
he  considered  that  outspokenness  must  involve  opposition  to 
the  commands  of  those  to  whom  he  owed  obedience  he  did 
not  write  at  all.  In  such  cases  he  had  realised  the  power 
of  silence,  and  in  refraining  from  speech  had  imitated  One 
Whose  spoken  words  were  Divine :  he  had  remembered 
those  passages  of  the  Gospel  in  which  it  is  written  'Jesus 
autem    tacebat.'     When  he  did   speak,  while   using  infinite 


THE   CARDINALATE   (1879)  439 

care  to  give  no  offence  in  the  manner  of  his  expression,  never- 
theless he  had  given  clear  indication  of  views  most  distasteful 
to  the  extreme  party  of  the  Civiltd,  of  the  Dublin  Review, 
of  the  Univers,  which  was  so  influential  in  Rome.  Newman 
was  sure  that  posterity  would  see  the  necessity  of  such  con- 
scientious fidelity  to  historical  and  scientific  fact  with  a  view 
to  preserving  the  influence  of  Christianity  among  the  edu- 
cated classes  in  the  age  to  come.  He  trusted  to  time  to 
justify  him.  'To  her  arms  I  lovingly  commit  myself,'  he 
said  again  and  again.  But  he  had  finally  resigned  himself 
to  the  conviction  that  official  recognition  for  his  work  in  his 
own  lifetime  was  out  of  the  question.  Therefore,  when  his 
long  course  of  unswerving  veracity,  submission,  and  patient 
waiting  was  rewarded  by  the  most  signal  approval  Rome 
could  give,  he  saw  in  the  Pontiff's  action  the  hand  of  God, 
Who  has  promised  earthly  rewards  to  those  who  seek  only 
'  the  kingdom  of  God  and  His  justice.'  He  felt,  as  Father 
Neville  used  to  say,  almost  as  though  the  heavens  had 
opened  and  the  Divine  voice  had  spoken  its  approval  of 
him  before  the  whole  world.  This  approval,  implied  in  the 
Pontiff's  desire  to  raise  him  to  the  Sacred  College,  must 
remain  a  fact,  whether  circumstances  would  allow  him  to 
assume  the  external  splendour  of  a  Cardinal's  estate  or  not. 
Cardinal  Nina's  letter,  it  should  be  noted,  was  not  an  actual 
offer  of  the  Hat,  but  a  preliminary  letter  expressing  the  Holy 
Father's  wish  to  make  such  an  offer. 

Newman  wrote  at  once  to  the  Bishop,  expressing  his 
deep  gratitude,  but  pointing  out  the  impossibility  at  his  age 
of  leaving  the  Oratory  and  residing  in  Rome. 

'  The  Oratory,  Birmingham  : 

Feb.  2,  Feast  of  the  Purification,  1879. 

'My  Right  Rev.  Father, —  I  trust  that  his  Holiness,  and 
the  most  eminent  Cardinal  Nina  will  not  think  me  a  thoroughly 
discourteous  and  unfeeling  man,  who  is  not  touched  by  the 
commendation  of  superiors,  or  a  sense  of  gratitude,  or  the 
splendour  of  dignity,  when  I  say  to  you,  my  Bishop,  who 
know  me  so  well,  that  I  regard  as  altogether  above  me  the 
great  honour  which  the  Holy  Father  proposes  with  wonderful 
kindness  to  confer  on  one  so  insignificant,  an  honour  quite 
transcendent  and  unparalleled,  than  which  his  Holiness  has 
none  greater  to  bestow. 


440  LIFE   OF   CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

'  For  I  am,  indeed,  old  and  distrustful  of  myself;  I  have 
lived  now  thirty  years  in  nidulo  nieo  in  my  much  loved 
Oratory,  sheltered  and  happy,  and  would  therefore  entreat 
his  Holiness  not  to  take  me  from  St.  Philip,  my  Father  and 
Patron. 

'  By  the  love  and  reverence  with  which  a  long  succession 
of  Popes^  have  regarded  and  trusted  St.  Philip,  I  pray  and 
entreat  his  Holiness  in  compassion  of  my  diffidence  of  mind, 
in  consideration  of  my  feeble  health,  my  nearly  eighty  years^ 
the  retired  course  of  my  life  from  my  youth,  my  ignorance  of 
foreign  languages,  and  my  lack  of  experience  in  business,  to 
let  me  die  where  I  have  so  long  lived.  Since  I  know  now 
and  henceforth  that  his  Holiness  thinks  kindly  of  me,  what 
more  can  I  desire  ? 

'  Right  Rev.  Father, 

Your  most  devoted 

John  H.  Newman.' 

This  letter  reads  like  a  simple  refusal  of  the  proposed 
dignity  ;  but,  as  those  who  lived  with  Newman  knew,  his 
wish  was  to  accept  it  provided  that  he  was  allowed  to 
remain  at  the  Oratory.  To  express  this  in  a  letter  was,  in 
his  sensitive  judgment,  to  seem  to  bargain  with  the  Holy 
Father.  In  writing  he  therefore  confined  himself  to  indi- 
cating his  inability  to  leave  home  at  his  great  age.  The 
following  day,  however,  he  went  to  Oscott  to  see  the  Bishop, 
and  his  true  mind  on  the  subject  of  the  Cardinalate  is  placed 
beyond  question  in  the  following  letters— the  first  semi- 
official, the  second  private — written  by  Dr.  Ullathorne  to 
Cardinal  Manning  after  the  interview  : 

'St.  Mary's  College,  Oscott,  Birmingham:  Feb.  3,  1879. 

'My  dear  Lord  Cardinal,— Your  kind  letter,  enclosing 
that  of  Cardinal  Nina,  gave  me  very  great  gratification.  As 
I  could  not  with  any  prudence  go  to  Birmingham,  I  wrote 
and  asked  Dr.  Newman  if  he  could  come  to  Oscott.  But  he 
was  in  bed  suflTering  from  a  severe  cold,  and  much  pulled  down. 
I,  therefore,  took  advantage  of  a  clause  in  Cardinal  Nina's 
letter,  and  asked  him  to  send  a  Father  in  his  intimate  con- 
fidence whom  he  might  consult  in  a  grave  matter  of  import- 
ance, to  whom  I  could  communicate  in  secresy  the  Holy 
Father's  message.  Father  Pope  was  sent,  and  with  him  I 
went  into  the  subject,  and  sent  the  documents  with  a  paper 
in  which  I  had  written  my  own  reflections. 


THE   CARDINALATE   (1879)  441 

'  Dr.  Newman  contrived  to  come  himself  to-day,  although 
quite  feeble.  He  is  profoundly  and  tenderly  impressed  with 
the  goodness  of  the  Holy  Father  towards  him,  and  he  spoke 
to  me  with  great  humility  of  what  he  conceived  to  be  his 
disqualifications,  especially  at  his  age,  for  so  great  a  position, 
and  of  his  necessity  to  the  Birmingham  Oratory,  which  still 
requires  his  care. 

'  I  represented  to  him,  as  I  had  already  done  through 
Father  Pope,  that  I  felt  confident  that  the  one  intention  of 
the  Holy  Father  was  to  confer  upon  him  this  signal  proof 
of  his  confidence,  and  to  give  him  an  exalted  position  in  the 
Church  in  token  of  the  great  services  he  had  rendered  to  her 
cause,  and  that  I  felt  confident  also  that  his  Holiness  would 
not  require  his  leaving  the  Oratory  and  taking  a  new  position 
at  his  great  age.  But  that  if  he  would  leave  it  to  me,  I 
would  undertake  to  explain  all  to  your  Eminence,  who  would 
make  the  due  explanations  to  Cardinal  Nina. 

'  Dr.  Newman  has  far  too  humble  and  delicate  a  mind  to 
dream  of  thinking  or  saying  anything  which  would  look  like 
hinting  at  any  kind  of  terms  with  the  Sovereign  Pontiff.  He 
has  expressed  himself  in  a  Latin  letter  addressed  to  me, 
which  I  could  send  to  your  Eminence,  and  which  you  could 
place  in  the  hands  of  Cardinal  Nina. 

'  I  think,  however,  that  I  ought  to  express  my  own  sense 
of  what  Dr.  Newman's  dispositions  are,  and  that  it  will  be 
expected  of  me.  As  I  have  already  said.  Dr.  Newman  is 
most  profoundly  touched  and  moved  by  this  very  great  mark 
of  consideration  on  the  part  of  the  Sovereign  Pontiff,  and  I 
am  thoroughly  confident  that  nothing  stands  in  the  way  of 
his  most  grateful  acceptance  except  what  he  tells  me  greatly 
distresses  him,  namely,  the  having  to  leave  the  Oratory  at  a 
critical  period  of  its  existence,  and  when  it  is  just  beginning 
to  develop  in  new  members,  and  the  impossibility  of  his 
beginning  a  new  life  at  his  advanced  age. 

'  I  cannot,  however,  but  think  myself  that  this  is  not 
the  Holy  Father's  intention,  and  that  His  Holiness  would 
consider  his  presence  in  England  of  importance,  where  he  has 
been  so  much  in  communication  with  those  who  are  in  search 
of  the  Truth. 

'  I  have  also  said  to  Dr.  Newman  himself  that  I  am  con- 
fident thai,  the  noble  Catholics  of  England  would  not  leave 
him  without  the  proper  means  for  maintaining  his  dignity  in 
a  suitable  manner. 

'  Although  expecting  me  to  make  the  official  communi- 
cation, Dr.   Newman  will   write  to  you  himself     I   remain, 


442  LIFE    OF   CARDINAL    NEWMAN 

my    dear    Lord    Cardinal,   your    faithful    and    affectionate 
servant, 

'  William  Bernard,  Bp.  of  Birmingham.' 

Another  letter  written  on  the  following  day  speaks  yet 
more  plainly : 

'  Private.  St.  Mary's  College,  Oscott,  Birmingham  :  Feb.  4,  1879. 

'  My  dear  Lord  Cardinal, —  I  had  no  time  to  write  you  a 
more  private  letter  after  seeing  Dr.  Newman  yesterday.  He 
is  very  much  aged,  and  softened  with  age  and  the  trials  he 
has  had,  especially  by  the  loss  of  his  two  brethren,  St.  John 
and  Caswall  ;  he  can  never  refer  to  these  losses  without 
weeping  and  becoming  speechless  for  the  time.  He  is  very 
much  affected  by  the  Pope's  kindness,  would,  I  know,  like  to 
receive  the  great  honour  offered  him,  but  feels  the  whole 
difficulty  at  his  age  of  changing  his  life,  or  having  to  leave 
the  Oratory,  which  I  am  sure  he  could  not  do.  If  the  Holy 
Father  thinks  well  to  confer  on  him  the  dignity,  leaving  him 
where  he  is,  I  know  how  immensely  he  would  be  gratified, 
and  you  will  know  how  generally  the  conferring  on  him  the 
Cardinalate  will  be  applauded.  .  .  . 

'  My  dear  Lord  Cardinal,  faithfully  and  affectionately 
yours, 

'  W.  B.  Ullathorne.' 

It  is  hardly  surprising,  considering  the  extraordinary 
vacillations  of  1856 — when,  after  he  had  received  formal 
notice  from  Cardinal  Wiseman,  written  from  Rome  itself,  that 
he  was  nominated  a  Bishop,  the  appointment  was  cancelled 
without  the  assignment  of  any  reason  or  even  any  formal 
intimation  of  the  fact — that  Newman  was  a  little  slow  to  feel 
absolute  confidence  that  this  great  honour  was  to  be  bestowed. 
And  it  almost  seemed  as  though  the  evil  fate  which  had 
dogged  him  on  the  earlier  occasion  was  again  threatening 
this  new  proposal. 

On  February  15  he  learnt  from  Miss  Bowles  that  Father 
Coleridge  had  told  her  of  the  offer  of  a  Cardinal's  Hat  and 
had  added  that  Newman  had  declined  it.  Newman  promptly 
replied:  'You  may  say  to  Father  Coleridge  (i)  that  I  know 
nothing  about  it.  (2)  that  I  believe  such  an  offer  binds  a 
man  to  secrecy,  if  it  is  made  to  him.  (3)  that  I  never  should 
reject  hastily  or  bluntly.' 


THE   CARDINALATE   (1879)  443 

Three  days  later,  however,  the  same  report  appeared 
in  a  more  formidable  shape.  The  Times  of  February  18 
published  the  following  paragraph  :  '  Pope  Leo  XIII.  has 
intimated  his  desire  to  raise  Dr.  Newman  to  the  rank  of 
Cardinal,  but  with  expressions  of  deep  respect  for  the  Holy 
See  Dr.  Newman  has  excused  himself  from  accepting  the 
purple.' 

Although  the  letter  sent  to  Dr.  Ullathorne  for  Cardinal 
Nina  to  see  did  bear  this  interpretation  prima  facie,  it  was 
addressed  to  one  to  whom  Newman  himself  explained  its 
true  meaning,  and  had  been  shown  by  the  Bishop  only 
to  Cardinal  Manning,  to  whom  he  had  carefully  conveyed 
Newman's  real  wishes.  Manning,  however,  appears  to  have 
taken  Newman's  own  written  words  as  decisive,  and  to 
have  regarded  the  Bishop's  impressions  as  unauthoritative. 
Newman  was  greatly  pained  by  the  appearance  of  such  a 
statement  in  the  papers,  and  at  a  loss  to  account  for  it.  In 
the  ordinary  course  of  things  such  a  paragraph  could  not 
have  been  inserted  without  Newman's  express  authority. 
It  consequently  conveyed  to  the  world  not  only  an  absolute 
refusal  which  he  had  never  intended,  but  a  wish  on  his 
part  to  emphasise  publicly  the  fact  that  he  had  declined 
the  honour  so  graciously  offered  to  him.  People  might 
infer  that  he  took  somewhat  lightly  a  proposal  for  which 
he  was  in  reality  deeply  thankful  ;  and  his  friends  felt  that 
when  the  paragraph  was  read  at  Rome  it  might  actually 
lead  to  the  offer  of  the  Cardinalate  being  withheld.  Letters 
reached  him  daily  from  Catholic  friends  expressing  deep 
regret  at  his  reported  refusal. 

Newman's  feeling  as  to  the  report  is  apparent  in  the 
following  letter  to  the  Duke  of  Norfolk  : 

*  The  Oratory  :  Feb.  20,  1879. 

'  My  dear  Duke, —  I  have  heard  from  various  quarters  ot 
the  affectionate  interest  you  have  taken  in  the  application  to 
Rome  about  me,  and  I  write  to  thank  you  and  to  express  my 
great  pleasure  at  it. 

'  As  to  the  statement  of  my  refusing  a  Cardinal's  Hat, 
which  is  in  the  papers,  you  must  not  believe  it — for  this 
reason  : 


444  LIFE   OF   CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

'  Of  course,  it  implies  that  an  offer  has  been  made  me,  and 
I  have  sent  an  answer  to  it.  Now  I  have  ever  understood 
that  it  is  a  point  of  propriety  and  honour  to  consider  such 
communications  sacred.  The  statement  therefore  cannot 
come  from  me.  Nor  could  it  come  from  Rome,  for  it  was 
made  public  before  my  answer  got  to  Rome. 

'  It  could  only  come,  then,  from  some  one  who  not  only 
read  my  letter,  but,  instead  of  leaving  to  the  Pope  to  inter- 
pret it,  took  upon  himself  to  put  an  interpretation  upon  it, 
and  published  that  interpretation  to  the  world. 

'  A  private  letter,  addressed  to  Roman  Authorities,  is 
interpreted  on  its  way  and  published  in  the  English  papers. 
How  is  it  possible  that  any  one  can  have  done  this  ? 

'  And  besides,  I  am  quite  sure  that,  if  so  high  an  honour 
was  offered  me,  I  should  not  answer  it  by  a  blunt  refusal. 

'  Yours  affectionately, 

John  H.  Newman.'  ' 

The  report  spread  that  Newman  had  categorically  refused 
the  Hat  and  it  long  persevered  in  many  quarters.  Father 
Walford,  S.J.,  writing  in  the  name  of  Beaumont  College 
on  February  27  to  offer  the  congratulations  of  the  masters 
and  boys,  concluded  with  the  following  words :  '  While  we 
should  have  been  glad  on  our  own  account  and  on  account  of 
our  fellow  Catholics  in  England  to  see  you  actually  invested 
with  the  Sacred  Purple,  yet,  as  religious  of  the  Society  of 
Jesus,  we  cannot  but  admire  and  sympathise  all  the  more 
with  the  illustrious  son  of  St.  Philip,  whose  love  of  humility 
and  retirement  leads  him  in  the  Spirit  of  his  own  Holy 
Father,  and  in  that  of  ours,  to  shrink  from  so  exalted  a 
position  as  that  of  a  prince  of  the  Church.' 

This  letter  gave  Newman  an  opportunity  of  at  once 
making  it  known  that  no  official  offer  had  actually  come,  and 
of  throwing  doubt  upon  the  view  taken  by  Father  Walford 
of  his  attitude  towards  such  an  offer  : 

'The  Oratory:  March  i,  1879. 

'  My  dear  Father  Walford, — You  must  not  measure  my 
gratification  and  my  gratitude  to  your  very  Rev.  Father 
Rector  and  the  other  Fathers  and  Brothers  of  your  community 

'  *  Would  it  not  look  odd,'  he  writes  to  Mr.  Pollen,  '  if  the  Postman  here,  not 
only  read  this,  my  letter  to  you,  before  it  got  to  the  receiving  office,  but  put  his 
own  interpretation  on  it,  and  told  first  his  particular  friends  about  it,  and  then 
the  general  public,  leaving  you  to  receive  it  next  morning  ? ' 


THE   CARDINALATE    (1879)  445 

at  Beaumont  by  the  poor  words  I  am  putting  upon  paper  ; 
for  I  am  confused  and  troubled  by  the  greatness  of  the 
honour  which,  from  what  is  so  widely  reported,  I  suppose 
there  is  a  prospect  of  being  offered  to  me,  though  in  truth  I 
cannot  say  it  has.  But  nothing  can  undo  the  fact  that  the 
report  has  been  so  kindly  received  and  welcomed  by  my  own 
people,  the  Catholics  of  England,  and  next  by  such  large 
bodies  of  our  Protestant  fellow-countrymen. 

'  It  will  be  a  great  relief  to  me  if  the  great  offer  is  not 
made  to  me — but,  if  made,  my  way  is  not  clear.  I  have  a 
reasonable  apprehension  that  my  refusal  would  be  taken  by 
Protestants,  nay  by  some  Catholics,  as  a  proof  that  at  heart 
I  am  not  an  out  and  out  son  of  the  Church,  and  that  it  may 
unsettle  some  Catholics,  and  throw  back  inquirers.  I  know 
that  Unitarians,  Theists,  and  anti-Catholics  generally  are 
earnest  that  I  should  decline,  whereas  I  hear  of  a  widespread 
feeling  among  Catholics  that,  if  I  decline,  I  am  "  snubbing 
the  Pope." 

'  I  have  suffered  so  much  from  the  obstinacy  of  all  sorts 
of  people  to  believe  that  I  am  a  good  Catholic  that  this 
wonderful  opportunity,  if  opened  on  me,  of  righting  myself  in 
public  opinion  must  not  be  lost  except  for  very  grave  reasons. 

'  Yours  affectionately, 

John  H.  Newman.' 

To  much  the  same  effect  he  wrote  to  Pusey  next  day  in 
reply  to  a  letter  congratulating  him  on  his  reported  refusal  of 
the  dignity  that  had  been  offered  to  him. 

'  The  Oratory  :   March  2,  1879. 

'  We  look  at  things  from  different  points  of  view.  Here 
have  I  for  thirty  years  been  told  by  men  of  all  colours  in 
belief  that  I  am  not  a  good  Catholic.  It  has  given  me 
immense  trouble,  much  mortification,  and  great  loss  of  time. 
It  has  been  used  as  an  argument  to  keep  men  back  from 
joining  the  Church  ;  men  have  said  :  "  Just  you  see — his  own 
people  do  not  trust  him — the  Pope  snubs  him."  When 
then  after  this  period  of  ]~)enance,  and  this  long  trial  of 
patience  and  resignation,  [this  offer  comes]  say,  would  not 
you  yourself  in  such  a  case  feel  it  a  call  of  God  not  to 
refuse  so  great  a  mercy  as  a  thorough  wiping  away  for  ever 
of  this  stigma  such  as  the  offer  of  a  Cardinal's  Plat  involves, 
and  feel  it  a  heartless  act  of  ins^ratitude  to  the  ^enerous 
offerer  of  it  and  to  the  warm-hearted  friends  who  have 
laboured  for  it,  if  I   refused  it  ?  .  .  . 

'  If  the  common  reports  are  true,  the  present  Pope  in  his 
high  place  as  Cardinal,  was  in  the  same  ill  odour  at  Rome  as 


446  LIFE   OF  CARDINAL    NEWMAN 

I  was.  Here  then  a  fellow-feeling  and  sympathy  with  him 
colours  to  my  mind  his  act  towards  me.  He  seems  to 
say  : — 

'  "  Non  ignara  mali,  miseris  succurrere  disco." 

'  How  can  I  not  supplement  his  act  by  giving  my  assent 
to  it? 

'  Thanks  for  your  sermon,  which  is  most  valuable,  I  see.' 

Manning  had  already  started  for  Rome  when  Newman 
wrote  to  the  Duke  of  Norfolk,  and  the  Duke  forwarded  to 
him  Newman's  letter,  adding  his  own  strong  representations 
as  to  the  harm  which  would  be  done  if  anything  now 
occurred  to  make  the  English  public  believe  that  Rome's 
offer  was  not  really  intended.  The  Duke  urged  him  to  make 
all  explanations  called  for  by  the  unfortunate  report  circulated 
by  the  Times,  for  which  beyond  doubt  Dr.  Newman  and  his 
friends  were  not  responsible.  The  Duke's  representations  had 
the  desired  effect.  Cardinal  Manning  explained  the  situation 
to  the  Holy  Father,  who  at  once  acceded  to  Newman's 
request  that  he  might  continue  to  live  at  the  Oratory  ;  and 
Manning  communicated  the  intelligence  both  by  telegram 
and  by  letter  to  the  Bishop  of  Birmingham. 

His  telegram  arrived  on  March  2,  1 879 ;  and  at  last 
all  seemed  really  certain. 

'  Amid  your  troubles  and  anxieties,'  Newman  writes  to 
Miss  Bowles  on  that  day,  '  you  will  be  glad  to  hear  that  the 
Pope  grants  me  non-residence,  which  has  not  been  done 
since  the  17th  century.  I  suppose  all  is  certain  now,  unless 
one  of  the  sudden  changes  take  place  which  have  sometimes 
occurred  to  me  in  life.' 

Both  the  Bishop  and  Newman  himself  wrote  without 
delay  to  Manning,  making  Newman's  acceptance  of  the 
dignity  perfectly  clear : 

'  St.  Mary's  College,  Oscott,  Birmingham  :  March  4,  1879. 
'  My  dear  Lord  Cardinal, — Your  letter,  following  your 
telegram,  was  extremely  welcome  to  Dr.  Newman.  He 
wrote  to  me  :  "  You  may  fancy  how  I  am  overcome  by  the 
Pope's  goodness."  He  also  said  to  his  own  brethren  :  "  The 
cloud  is  lifted  from  me  for  ever."  He  accepts  with  the 
greatest  gratitude  the  honour  and  dignity  which  the  Holy 
Father  designs  for  him,  and  I  am  sure  that  if  he  can  take 


THE  CARDINALATE    (1879)  447 

the  journey  he  will  come  to  Rome.  He  is  still  suffering 
from  severe  cold,  but  is  wonderfully  consoled  by  the  Pope's 
kindness. 

'  The  whole  press  of  England  has  been  engaged  on  the 
subject,  and  the  general  disposition  is  to  look  upon  Dr. 
Newman  not  merely  as  a  Catholic  but  as  a  great  English- 
man, and  to  regard  the  intention  of  the  Pope  as  an  honour  to 
England. 

'Your  communications  came  happily  in  time  to  stop 
the  general  conclusion  that  Dr.  Newman  had  declined,  upon 
which  the  comic  papers  have  founded  their  illustrations. 

*  I  have  considered  it  prudent,  now  that  all  is  public, 
to  deny,  and  cause  it  to  be  denied,  that  Dr.  Newman  has 
[declined]  or  did  decline.  ...  I  remain,  my  dear  Lord 
Cardinal, 

'  Your  faithful  and  affectionate  servant, 

W.  B.  Ullathorne.' 

*  The  Oratory  :  March  4,  1879. 

'  Dear  Cardinal  Manning, — I  hardly  should  have  thought 
it  became  me,  since  no  letter  has  been  addressed  to  me,  to 
write  to  anyone  at  Rome  myself,  on  the  gracious  message  of 
the  Ploly  Father  about  me. 

*  Since,  however,  the  Bishop  of  Birmingham  recommends 
me  to  do  so,  I  hereby  beg  to  say  that  with  much  gratitude 
and  with  true  devotion  to  His  Holiness,  I  am  made  acquainted 
with  and  accept  the  permission  he  proposes  to  me  in  his  con- 
descending goodness  to  keep  place  within  the  walls  of  my 
Oratory  at  Birmingham. 

'  I  am,  sincerely  yours,  kissing  the  Sacred  Purple, 

John  H.  Newman.' 

But  even  now  a  letter  came  from  Manning's  intimate 
friend,  Lady  Herbert  of  Lea,  implying  that  Newman  was  still 
declining  the  Hat.     He  replied  to  her  at  once  : 

'The  Oratory:  March  5th,  1879. 

'  My  dear  Lady  Herbert, — Your  letter  is  most  kind,  as 
kind  as  it  could  be,  and  I  thank  you  for  it  with  all  my  heart. 

'  You  speak  as  if  I  ever  had  declined  the  great  honour 
offered  me — No,  I  never  did — and  that  I  am  persisting  in  my 
refusal  now.     Not  at  all. 

'  /  have  not  been  written  to — naturally,  but  Cardinal 
Manning  says  that  a  letter  will  soon  come  to  me.  I  shall 
answer  it  at  once  accepting  it,  if  it  comes. 

'  Most  truly  yours, 

John  H.  Newman.' 


448  LIFE   OF   CARDINAL    NEWMAN 

On  the  same  day  he  wrote  a  further  letter  to  Manning  -to 
place  the  state  of  affairs  quite  beyond  doubt : 

'  The  Oratory  :  March  5,  1879. 

'  Dear  Cardinal  Manning, — Wishing  to  guard  against  all 
possible  mistake  I  trouble  you  with  this  second  letter. 

'  As  soon  as  the  Holy  Father  condescends  to  make  it 
known  to  me  that  he  means  to  confer  on  me  the  high  dignity 
of  Cardinal,  I  shall  write  to  Rome  to  signify  my  obedience 
and  glad  acceptance  of  the  honour  without  any  delay. 

'  I  write  this  thinking  that  the  impression  which  existed 
some  fortnight  since,  that  I  had  declined  it,  may  still  prevail. 

'  Yours  very  sincerely, 

John  H.  Newman. 

'  P.S. — This  second  letter  is  occasioned  by  something  that 
came  to  my  knowledge  since  my  letter  of  yesterday.' 

Newman  also  wrote  to  Cardinal  Howard,  who  resided  in 

Rome  : 

'  The  Oratory,  Birmingham. 

*  My  Lord  Cardinal, — My  only  apology  for  writing  to 
you  is  the  circumstance  that  Cardinal  Manning  mentioned 
your  Eminence's  name  in  conjunction  with  his  own  in 
matters  which  concern  me. 

'  I  find  the  impression  still  exists  in  London  that  I  am 
resisting  the  most  gracious  and  generous  wish  of  the  Holy 
Father  to  raise  me  to  the  Sacred  College.  In  case  this 
impression  prevails  anywhere  in  Rome,  I  take  the  liberty  of 
writing  to  you  as  well  as  to  Cardinal  Manning  to  say  that  it 
is  altogether  unfounded. 

'  Kissing  the  Sacred  Purple,  I  am  yours,  etc., 

John  H.  Newman.' 

Cardinal  Howard  to  Dr.  Newman. 

'Rome:  Monday,  March  10,  1879. 

'  Dear  Fr.  Newman, — I  lose  no  time  in  answering  your 
kind  letter,  and  to  say  that  the  report  which  you  mention  as 
having  existed  in  London,  that  you  were  believed  to  be 
resisting  the  wish  of  the  Holy  Father  to  raise  you  to  the 
Sacred  College,  does  not  in  any  form  exist  now  in  Rome. 
At  first  a  report  gained  some  credence  that  in  your  humility 
for  various  reasons  you  had  been  disposed  to  decline  this 
honour,  but  it  immediately  became  known  that  the  Holy 
Father  very  decidedly  wished  to  confer  the  Hat  upon  you, 
and  thus  all  doubt  ceased  to  exist  upon  the  subject. 


THE  CARDINALATE  (1879)  449 

'  Let  me  take  this  opportunity  to  offer  you  my  most  sincere 
congratulations  and  to  say  how  great  a  pleasure  it  is  to  me 
to  have  been  able  to  have  had  some  part  however  [small]  in 
what  must  cause  so  much  pleasure  in  England,  and  confers 
another  honour  on  St.  Philip's  children. 

'  Pray  believe  me,  dear  Fr.  Newman, 
Very  truly  yours, 

Edward  Card.  Howard.' 

Manning's  replies  to  Newman's  two  letters  were  quite 
explicit : 

'  English  College  :  March  8,  1879. 

*  My  dear  Newman, — Your  letter  [of  March  4]  reached 
me  last  night ;  and  I  took  and  repeated  it  to  the  Holy 
Father  this  morning. 

'  He  charged  me  to  say  that  the  official  letter  will  be  sent 
to  you  :  and  that  he  gives  full  permission  that  you  should 
continue  to  reside  in  your  home  at  Birmingham. 

'  He  told  me  to  say  to  you  that  in  elevating  you  to  the 
Sacred  College  he  intends  to  bestow  on  you  a  testimony  to 
your  virtues  and  your  learning  :  and  to  do  an  act  grateful  to 
the  Catholics  of  England,  and  to  England  itself  for  which  he 
feels  an  affectionate  interest. 

'  It  gives  me  much  happiness  to  be  the  bearer  of  this 
message  to  you. 

'  Believe  me  always,  yours  affectionately, 

H.  E.  Card.  ARCHBr.' 

'  English  College  :   March  8,  1879. 

'  My  dear  Newman, — Your  second  letter  [of  March  5] 
has  just  reached  me.  Mine  wiil  have  been  received  before 
this,  and  you  will  know  that  I  have  not  a  second  time 
failed  to  understand  your  intention.  The  letter  written 
by  you  to  the  Bishop  of  Birmingham  in  answer  to  Cardinal 
Nina's  letter  was  sent  by  the  Bishop  to  me  with  a  letter 
of  his  own. 

'  I  fully  believed  that,  for  the  reasons  given  in  your  letter, 
you  declined  what  might  be  offered. 

'  But  the  Bishop  expressed  his  hope  that  you  might  under 
a  change  of  conditions  accept  it. 

'  This  confirmed  my  belief  that  as  it  stood  you  declined  it. 

'  And  your  letter  to  me  of  a  day  or  two  later  still  further 
confirmed  my  belief^ 

'  I  started  for  Rome,  taking  with  me  the  Bishop's  letters, 
not  knowing  what  might  be  done  here. 

'  This  letter  I  have  not  found. 
VOL.  II.  G  G 


45©  LIFE   OF  CARDINAL  NEWMAN 

'  In  passing  through  Paris  I  wrote  to  the  Duke  of  Norfolk 
in  the  sense  I  have  written  above. 

'  I  never  doubted  that  impression,  received  from  your 
letters  and  the  Bishop's,  till  I  received  from  the  Duke  a  copy 
of  a  letter  of  yours  to  him,  in  which  you  said  that  you  had 
not  intended  to  refuse  what  had  been  proposed. 

*  The  moment  I  read  this  I  went  to  the  Vatican,  and  told 
the  Holy  Father,  and  asked  his  permission  to  write  to  the 
Duke,  and  to  the  Bishop  of  Birmingham. 

'  But  to  shorten  still  further  the  suspense  I  telegraphed 

to  both. 

'  I  write  this  because  if  I  misunderstood  your  intention  it 
was  by  an  error  which  I  repaired  the  instant  I  knew  it. 
'  Believe  me  always,  yours  affectionately, 

H.  E.  Card.  ARCHBr.' 

Not  until  March  15  did  Cardinal  Nina  send  the  official 
notice  ^  that  the  Hat  was  to  be  conferred.  Manning  at  once 
forwarded  it  to  Newman  : 

'Rome:  March  15,  1879. 

'  My  dear  Newman,— The  enclosed  letter  from  Cardinal 
Nina  has  this  moment  reached  me,  and  I  forward  it  to  you 
with  great  joy.  I  hope  you  may  yet  have  many  years  to 
serve  the  Church  in  this  most  intimate  relation  to  the  Holy 
See  From  the  expressions  used  by  many  of  the  Sacred 
College  to  me  I  can  assure  you  of  the  joy  with  which  they 
will  receive  you. 

'  I  remember  in  1854,  I  think,  writing  from  Rome  to  wish 
you  joy  on  another  event.  I  quoted  the  words  "  hones- 
tavit  ilium  in  laboribus  et  complevit  labores  illius."  I  have 
still  greater  happiness  in  conveying  to  you  this  greater 
completion  of  your  many  labours. 

'  Believe  me,  my  dear  Newman, 
Yours  affectionately, 

H.  E.  Card.  Archbp.' 

The  correspondence  had  in  the  first  two  weeks  in  March 
become  so  very  definite  that  Newman  no  longer  hesitated, 
even  before  the  reception  of  the  official  letter,  to  speak  of 
his  future  dignity  to  those  who  were  in  the  secret  as  an 
accomplished  fact.  Among  those  to  whom  he  wrote  on  this 
assumption  was  his  old  friend  Father  Whitty,  who  had  been 

'  The  text  of  this  notice  and  of  Newman's  reply  to  it  will  be  found  in  the 
Appendix  to  this  chapter,  at  p.  583.  In  the  same  Appendix  are  printed  other 
letters  of  importance  respecting  the  conferring  of  the  Cardinal's  Hat  on 
Dr.  Newman,  and  his  acceptance  of  it. 


THE   CARDINALATE    (1879)  451 

among  the  first  to  urge  in  influential  quarters  the  importance 
in  the  interests  of  religion  of  gaining  this  recognition  of 
Newman's  life-work  from  Rome  itself: 

'  The  Oratory  :  March  9,  1879. 

'  My  dear  Father  Whitty, — I  waited  to  write  to  you  till  I 
had  some  official  notice  of  the  Pope's  gracious  purpose 
regarding  me — but  since  it  delays,  I  don't  like  not  to  send 
you  a  line  to  thank  you  for  all  the  zeal  which  you  have 
shown  in  my  behalf 

'  You  arc  an  old  friend  of  33  years  standing  since  the  time 
when  I  cut  my  eyebrow  at  St.  Edmund's  in  the  dark,  and 
when  I  asked  you  any  particulars  you  knew  of  the  Vincentians 
in  the  garden  at  Mary  vale — and  you  have  always  been  a 
kind  friend,  amid  all  the  changes  of  a  very  eventful  time — 
And  I  have  no  means  of  repaying  you  but  that  of  owning 
my  debt  and  praying  that  all  your  kindness  may  turn  to 
your  merit,  which,  as  really  done  for  Christ's  sake,  it  will. 
Faithfulness  is  a  rare  quality  in  this  world,  and  in  being  an 
instance  of  it,  a  man  shows  in  a  special  way  like  Him,  Whose 
endearing  attribute  is  to  be  faithful  and  true. 

'  I  will  not  say  more — but,  as  I  am  writing,  it  strikes  me 
that,  in  answering  the  very  pleasant  letter  I  had  from  your 
Provincial,  I  used  a  word  which  may  require  explanation. 
I  said  I  was  "  surprised "  at  the  kindness  of  his  letter.  I 
meant,  surprised  that  any  such  persons  should  think  so  well 
of  me. 

*  Excuse  a  stupid  letter — but  I  am  knocked  up  with  letter 
writing. 

'  Yours  affectionately  in  Christ, 

John  H.  Newman.' 

March  1 1  brought  a  formal  message  from  the  Holy 
Father  confirming  the  permission  for  non-residence  in  Rome. 
After  this  Newman  felt  that  he  could  write  quite  freely  to 
those  friends  who  had  not  been  in  the  secret,  and  the  first 
to  whom  he  wrote  was  Dean  Church  : 

^Private.  The  Oratory:  March  11,  1879. 

'  My  dear  Church, —  I  did  not  like  to  write  to  you  till  I 
had  something  like  official  notice  of  my  promotion.  This 
comes  within  this  half  hour.  Yet  not  so  much  official  as  per- 
sonal, being  a  most  gracious  message  from  the  Pope  to  me. 

'  He  allows  me  to  reside  in  this  Oratory,  the  precedent 
for  the  indulgence  being  Cardinal  de  Bcrulle,  founder  of  the 
French  Oratory  in  the  17th  Century. 

G  G  2 


452  LIFE    OF    CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

'  Haec  mutatio  dexterae  Excelsi !  all  the  stories  which  have 
gone  about  of  my  being  a  half  Catholic,  a  Liberal  Catholic, 
under  a  cloud,  not  to  be  trusted,  are  now  at  an  end.  .  .  . 

'  It  was  on  this  account  that  I  dared  not  refuse  the  offer. 
A  good  Providence  gave  me  an  opportunity  of  clearing  my- 
self of  former  calumnies  in  my  "Apologia" — and  I  dared  not 
refuse  it.  And  now  He  gave  me  a  means,  without  any  labour 
of  mine,  to  set  myself  right  as  regards  other  calumnies  which 
were  directed  against  me — how  could  I  neglect  so  great  a 
loving  kindness  ?  ^ 

'  I  have  ever  tried  to  leave  my  cause  in  the  Hands  of  God 
and  to  be  patient— and  He  has  not  forgotten  me. 

'  Ever  yours  affly., 

John  H.  Newman.' 

To  Father  Gerard,  S.J.,  he  wrote  next  day  his  thanks 
for  the  congratulations  of  the  Community  and  College  at 
Stonyhurst : 

'  How  very  kind  your  letter  is  !  I  thank  you  and  the 
other  members  of  your  Community  and  College  with  all  my 
heart  for  so  welcome  a  message.  Of  course  my  first  gratifica- 
tion on  receiving  the  great  honour,  which  is  the  occasion  of 
your  writing  to  me,  is  the  approbation  of  me  which  it  implies 
on  the  part  of  the  Holy  Father.  But  the  next,  and  a  very 
keen  source  of  enjoyment,  is  to  receive  the  congratulations 
of  friends — and  I  have  been  quite  startled  at  receiving  so 
many  and  so  warm — and  not  the  least  of  these  in  affection- 
ateness  from  the  houses  of  your  Society. 

'  Of  course  I  can't  expect  to  live  long — but  it  is  a  wonder- 
ful termination,  in  God's  good  Providence,  of  my  life.  I 
have  lived  long  enough  to  see  a  great  marvel.  I  shall  not 
forget  that  I  have  your  prayers.     Many  thanks  for  them.' 

It  was  a  welcome  task,  too,  to  reply  to  the  letter  from 
the  new  President  of  Trinity,  Dr.  Percival  (who  had  recently 
succeeded  Dr.  Wayte),  written  on  behalf  of  himself  and  the 
Fellows  of  the  College,  congratulating  their  distinguished 
colleague  on  his  new  honours  : 

'  The  Oratory,  Birininghani :  Mar.  30,  1879. 

'  Dear  Mr.  President, — I  had  been  looking  out,  ever  since 
I  heard  of  your  election,  for  the  time  when  you  would  come 

'  The  same  thought  appears  in  his  reply  to  George  Ryder's  congratulations. 
'  Of  course,'  he  writes,  '  it  is  a  great  pleasure  to  me  to  have  all  those  various  sus- 
picions about  the  soundness  of  my  theology,  which  lingered  in  so  many  nooks 
and  corners,  wiped  away  at  a  stroke  for  good  and  all,  and  to  have  lived  to  an 
unusual  age  to  be  witness  to  it.' 


THE  CARDINALATE  (1879)  453 

into  residence,  and  when  I  might  be  allowed  to  pay  my 
respects  to  you — and  now  you  anticipate  me  with  so  kind 
an  invitation,  and  with  such  warm  congratulations  on  my 
recent  promotion,  from  yourself  and  your  Fellows. 

'  I  hope  you  and  they  will  understand  how  very  pleasant 
it  is  to  me  to  find  the  events  which  happen  to  me  a  sub- 
ject of  such  friendly  interest  to  my  friends  at  Trinity,  and 
with  what  pride  I  reflect  that,  if  a  historical  title  and  high 
ecclesiastical  distinction  goes  for  anything  in  college  esti- 
mation, I  shall  be  thought,  when  the  name  of  a  Cardinal 
appears  on  your  list  of  members,  not  to  have  done  discredit 
to  your  generous  act  of  last  year,  when  you  singled  me  out 
for  your  honorary  Fellowship. 

'  I  am,  dear  Mr.  President, 
With  much  respect, 

Sincerely  yours, 

John  H.  Newman.' 

The  first  of  the  many  public  congratulations  which 
Newman  arranged  to  receive  was  the  address  of  the  Irish 
members  of  Parliament.  This  was  to  take  place  on  April  4 
at  the  house  of  Mr.  T.  W.  Allies  in  London.  As  the  time 
drew  near  Newman  became  very  despondent,  and  said  to 
Father  Neville,  '  It  has  all  come  too  late.  I  am  unused  to 
public  speeches.  I  am  old  and  broken.  It  is  too  late  to 
begin.  I  fear  I  shall  break  down.'  He  ate  little  breakfast 
when  the  day  arrived.  Father  Neville  went  with  him  to  the 
station.  As  he  got  out  of  the  carriage  Father  Neville  noted 
more  than  usual  the  stoop  which  in  his  old  age  contrasted 
so  much  with  the  upright  carriage  that  his  Oxford  friends 
remembered  in  earlier  years.  Newman  was  limp  and  seemed 
to  find  walking  a  difficulty — dragging  his  limbs  painfully 
along.  As  they  walked  on  the  platform  he  dropped  his 
hat  and  gloves.  Father  Neville  almost  feared  he  would 
faint.  He  made  him  more  than  once  drink  some  brandy, 
and  sent  him  off  hoping  for  the  best. 

Father  Neville  met  him  in  the  evening  at  the  station  on 
his  return  in  some  anxiety.  Newman  as  he  left  the  train 
walked  with  firm  step  and  erect  figure.  '  All  is  right,'  he 
said  ;  '  I  did  it  splendidly ' 

He  felt  henceforth — Father  Neville  told  me — that  after 
all   it  was  not   too  late,  that  he  still  had  the  strength  and 


454  LIFE   OF   CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

presence  of  mind    which    were  needed.      And   these   never 
failed  him  on  the  many  similar  occasions  which  ensued. 

The  Irish  address  was  not  seen  by  him  before  its  pre- 
sentation, and  his  reply  was  therefore  given  without  pre- 
paration. If  it  was  not  in  itself  specially  remarkable, 
those  present  were  agreed  as  to  its  tact  and  opportuneness, 
and  the  happy  ease  with  which  it  was  delivered.  The  report 
of  it  should  here  be  set  down  as  being  the  first  spoken 
acknowledgment  of  the  good  wishes  of  his  friends  : 

'  April  4,  1879. 

'  Gentlemen, — This  is  a  great  day  for  me,  and  it  is  a  day 
which  gives  me  great  pleasure  too.  It  is  a  pleasure  to  meet  old 
friends,  and  it  is  a  pleasure  to  meet  new  ones.  But  it  is  not 
merely  as  friends  that  I  meet  you,  for  you  are  representatives 
of  an  ancient  and  faithful  Catholic  people  for  whom  I  have  a 
deep  affection,  and  therefore  in  receiving  your  congratula- 
tions of  course  I  feel  very  much  touched  by  your  address  ; 
but  I  hope  you  will  not  think  it  strange  if  I  say  that  I  have 
been  surprised  too,  because  while  it  is  a  great  thing  to  please 
one's  own  people,  it  is  still  more  wonderful  to  create  an 
interest  in  a  people  which  is  not  one's  own.  I  do  not  think 
there  is  any  other  country  which  would  have  treated  me  so 
graciously  as  yours  did.  It  is  now  nearly  thirty  years  since, 
with  a  friend  of  mine,  I  first  went  over  to  Ireland  with  a  view 
to  the  engagement  which  I  afterwards  formed  there,  and 
during  the  seven  years  through  which  that  engagement 
lasted,  I  had  continuous  experience  of  kindness,  and  nothing 
but  kindness,  from  all  classes  of  people — from  the  hierarchy, 
from  the  seculars  and  regulars,  and  from  the  laity,  whether 
in  Dublin  or  in  the  country.  Those  who  worked  with  me 
gave  the  most  loyal  support  and  loving  help.  As  their  first 
act  they  helped  me  in  a  great  trouble  in  which  I  was  involved. 
I  had  put  my  foot  into  an  unusual  legal  embarrassment,  and 
it  required  many  thousand  pounds  to  draw  me  out  of  it. 
They  took  a  great  share  in  that  work.  Nor  did  they  show 
less  kindness  at  the  end  of  my  time.  I  was  obliged  to 
leave  from  the  necessities  of  my  own  congregation  at  Bir- 
mingham. Everybody  can  understand  what  a  difficulty  it  is 
for  a  body  to  be  without  its  head,  and  I  only  engaged  for 
seven  years,  because  I  could  not  otherwise  fulfil  the  charge 
which  the  Holy  Father  had  put  upon  me  in  the  Oratory. 
When  I  left  with  reluctance  and  regret  that  sphere  in  which 
I  found  so  many  friends,  not  a  word  of  disappointment  or 
unkindness  was  uttered,  when  there  might  have  been  a  feeling 


THE   CARDINALATE    (1879)  455 

that  I  was  relinquishing  a  work  which  I  had  begun,  and  now 
I  repeat  that,  to  my  surprise,  at  the  end  of  twenty  years 
I  find  a  silent  memory  cherished  of  a  person  who  can  only 
be  said  to  have  meant  well  though  he  did  little  ; — and  now 
what  return  can  I  make  to  show  my  gratitude  ?  None  that 
is  sufficient.  But  this  I  can  say,  that  your  address  shall  not 
die  with  me.  I  belong  to  a  body  which,  with  God's  blessing, 
will  live  after  me— the  Oratory  of  St,  Philip.  The  paper 
which  is  the  record  of  your  generosity  shall  be  committed 
to  our  archives,  and  shall  testify  to  generations  to  come  the 
enduring  kindness  of  Irish  Catholics  towards  the  founder  and 
first  head  of  the  English  Oratory.' 

Newman  was  ever  mindful  of  St.  Augustine's  '  Securus 
judicat  orbis  terrarum,'  not  only  in  its  strict  theological  bear- 
ing, but  in  its  more  general  sense  ;  and  the  tokens  now  rapidly 
multiplying  that  the  Holy  Father  had  in  his  act  given  ex- 
pression to  a  very  widespread  gratitude  among  Catholics  for 
his  great  services  to  the  Church  were  intensely  acceptable  to 
him.  To  this  feeling  he  gave  expression  in  his  reply  to  the 
congratulatory  address  which  came  next  in  order  after  that 
from  Ireland — that,  namely,  which  the  Primate  and  Bishops 
of  Scotland  forwarded  to  him  on  April  8.  In  the  course  of 
this  address  the  Bishops  used  the  following  words  : 

*  We  rejoice  that  it  has  pleased  the  Holy  P'ather,  by 
nominating  you  to  a  .seat  in  the  Sacred  College,  to  show  his 
sense  of  the  services  which  by  your  writings  and  the  influence 
of  example  you  have  rendered  to  the  Church,  and  we  sincerely 
hope  and  earnestly  pray,  that  the  opportunity  of  continuing 
these  services  may  be  long  granted  to  you  along  with  the 
enjoyment  of  your  new  and  well  earned  dignity.' 

Newman  thus  replied  : 

'  Next  to  the  approbation  of  the  Holy  Father  as  involved 
in  the  high  dignity  to  which  he  has  raised  me  is  the  rare 
token  of  good  opinion  and  good  will  which  your  Grace  con- 
veys to  me  from  yourself  and  your  brother  Bishops  of 
Scotland. 

'  It  is  this  echo  of  the  Sovereign  Pontiff's  voice  which 
brings  out  to  the  world  the  force  of  His  Holiness'  con- 
descension, and  gives  such  intenseness  to  my  gratification. 

'  I  expect  soon  to  go  to  Rome  ;  it  is  a  great  support  to 
feel  that  your  special  blessing,  as  conveyed  to  me  in  the  letter 


456  LIFE   OF  CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

which   I    am    acknowledging,  will  acconnpany   me    into    the 
Holy  Father's  presence.' 

The  last  address,  presented  before  the  Cardinal-elect  left 
England  for  the  Eternal  Cit}'',  came  from  his  neighbours,  the 
seminarists  at  Olton,  near  Birmingham.  The  address  was 
presented  by  two  of  the  principal  student.'--. 

'  Beyond  all  our  hopes,'  one  of  them  wrote  to  a  friend  at 
the  time,  'we  had  an  interview  of  near  half  an  hour  with 
the  saintly  old  man.  He  took  us  by  surprise,  entering  the 
room  while  we  were  expecting  Father  Pope.  He  sat  down 
with  us,  and  I  asked  him  somewhat  abruptly  if  he  would  not 
like  to  see  the  address  at  once.  With  some  little  trouble  in 
getting  the  string  undone  (Dr.  Newman  himself  went  and  got 
us  a  knife  to  cut  it)  we  brought  forth  the  address,  and  put  it  on 
the  mantelpiece,  as  it  happened,  in  a  position  very  favourable 
to  its  effect.  Leaning  on  the  mantelpiece  he  looked  at  it  for 
a  moment  or  two,  and  then  commenced  to  read  it.  He  read 
it  carefully  through  while  we  looked  on  in  silence.  As  he 
came  to  the  end  he  said  :  "  It  is  too  much,  of  course,  but  I 
know  that  it  is  meant."  And  then  seeing  the  list  of  names 
he  expressed  his  satisfaction,  saying  that  to  possess  the  names 
was  something  for  the  future.  He  again  said  that  he  felt  that 
it  was  more  than  he  deserved.  Upon  this  I  could  not  keep 
quiet  any  longer,  and  I  protested  that  every  word  was  meant. 
He  then  sat  down  and  said,  "  I  am  sure  of  that.  Those  things 
are  not  measured  by  words,  but  by  the  heart." ' 

On  the  eve  of  his  departure  for  Rome  Dr.  Newman  wrote 
to  his  old  friend  Mr.  John  O'Hagan  : 

'The  Oratory:  Easter  Tuesday,  1879. 

*  My  dear  John  O'Hagan, —  ...  Of  course  I  view  the 
wonderful  change  of  things  as  you  view  it.  It  was  the 
reason  which,  when  the  Holy  Father  so  considerately  allowed 
me  to  live  here,  made  me  put  away  every  other  thought 
and  constrained  me  to  accept  the  honour.  I  felt  that  he 
was  generously  and  tenderly  clearing  me  from  the  charges 
which  were  made  against  me.  I  used  to  say  to  myself, 
"  Time  will  set  me  right.  I  must  be  patient,  for  Time  is  on 
my  side."  But  the  Pope  has  superseded  Time.  How  should 
I  not  be  mo.st  grateful  to  him  ? 

'  I  set  off  for  Rome  to-morrow,  and  ask  you  and  Mrs. 
O'Hagan  to  say  a  good  prayer  for  me,  for  I  am  rather 
dreading  both  the  journey  and  the  climate. 

'  Yours  affectly., 

John  H.  Newman.' 


THE   CARDINALATE  (1879)  457 

Dr.  Newman  left  the  Oratory  for  Rome  on  the  Wednes- 
day in  Easter  week,  accompanied  by  Father  William  Neville. 
Father  Pope  and  Father  Paul  Eaglesim  were  to  meet  him  on 
his  arrival.  Rome  was  reached  on  Thursday,  April  24,  and 
the  details  of  the  journey  are  described  in  a  letter  written  by 
Newman  himself  to  one  of  the  Fathers  on  the  following  day  : 

'  Rome,  Hotel  Bristol:  April  25,  1879. 

'  You  arc  so  good  a  correspondent  yourself,  that  like 
other  virtuous  people  you  are  not  quite  sensitive  of  the 
difficulties  which  others  feel  in  being  so  good.  I  do  think 
it  a  great  virtue  in  you,  and  try  to  practise  it — so  does 
William — and  we  both  have  proposed  to  let  you  know  all 
about  us,  but,  in  spite  of  a  good  courier,  I  have  always  been 
tired,  and  William  busy. 

'  We  went  at  one  go  from  Boulogne  to  Turin — without 
any  discomfort,  getting  to  the  latter  place  by  Saturday  night. 
We  heard  Mass  next  morning  and  went  to  Genoa,  where 
the  weather  was  not  good,  and  I  found  myself  wet  and  cold. 
Unable  to  take  wine,  the  journey  was  too  much  for  me,  and 
I  had  to  remain  two  days  at  Pisa — else,  we  should  have 
been  at  Rome  on  Tuesday  night,  but  we  stayed  an  idle  day 
at  Pisa,  and  another  day  went  no  further  than  Siena — and 
so  got  here  by  half  past  four  p.m.  yesterday,  Thursday. 
Our  first  act  was  to  send  a  telegram  to  Birmingham. 

'This  morning,  as  we  expected,  Thomas  and  Paul  '  made 
their  appearance. 

'  Every  one  has  been  surpassingly  kind.  William,  perhaps 
Thomas,  is  to  see  Cardinal  Nina  to-night.  It  is  not  very 
warm,  yet  thunders.  We  have  not  settled  where  to  pitch  our 
tent.  I  make  a  bad  hand  at  Italian,  the  easiest  of  languages. 
After  all,  we  left  behind  my  coat  of  arms.  I  have  sent  a 
telegram  to  Louis  to  send  me  at  once  a  copy.  Do  you 
recollect  in  the  Vulgate  or  in  A  Kempis,  the  words  "  Cor  ad 
cor  (cordi  ?)  loquitur"?  Look  into  the  concordance  of  the 
Vulgate,  among  the  books  of  reference  in  the  Library,  and 
find  out  if  there  is  any  such  text  in  Scripture.' 

The  Holy  Father  received  Newman  in  private  audience 
on  Sunday,  April  27.  The  interview  is  described  in  the 
following  letter  to  Father  Henry  Bittleston  : 

'Via  Sistina  No.  48  :  May  2,  1879. 

'  My  dear  Henry, — Your  letter  came  safe  and  thank  you 
for  it.     I  have  been  laid  up  with  a  bad  cold  ever  since  I  have 

'  Father  Thomas  Pope  and  Father  Paul  Eaglesim. 


458  LIFE   OF   CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

been  here.  Yesterday  and  today  I  have  been  in  bed.  It  has 
seized  my  throat  and  continues  hard.  I  have  had  advice,  but 
it  does  nothing  for  me.  The  weather  is  so  bad — I  think  it 
will  not  go  till  Spring  weather  comes.  It  pulls  me  down 
sadly.  Here  great  days  are  passing,  and  I  a  prisoner  in 
the  house.  It  answers  to  my  general  experience  of  Roman 
weather. 

'  The  Holy  Father  received  me  most  affectionately — 
keeping  my  hand  in  his.  He  asked  me,  "  Do  you  intend  to 
continue  head  of  the  Birmingham  House?"  I  answered, 
"  That  depends  on  the  Holy  Father."  He  then  said,  "  Well 
then  I  wish  you  to  continue  head,"  and  he  went  on  to  speak 
of  this  at  length,  saying  there  was  a  precedent  for  it  in  one 
of  Gregory  XVI. 's  cardinals. 

'  He  asked  me  various  questions — was  our  house  a  good 
one  ?  was  our  Church  ?  how  many  were  we  ?  of  what  age  ? 
When  I  said,  we  had  lost  some,  he  put  his  hand  on  my  head 
and  said  "  Don't  cry."  He  asked  "  had  we  any  lay  brothers  ?  " 
How  then  did  we  do  for  a  cook  ?  I  said  we  had  a  widow 
woman,  and  the  kitchen  was  cut  off  from  the  house.  He 
said  "  bene."  Where  did  I  get  my  theology  ?  at  Propaganda  ? 
etc.  etc.  When  I  was  leaving  he  accepted  a  copy  of  my  four 
Latin  Dissertations,  in  the  Roman  Edition.  I  certainly  did 
not  think  his  mouth  large  till  he  smiled,  and  then  the  ends 
turned  up,  but  not  unpleasantly — he  has  a  clear  white  com- 
plexion— his  eyes  somewhat  bloodshot — but  this  might  have 
been  the  accident  of  the  day.  He  speaks  very  slowly  and 
clearly  and  with  an  Italian  manner. 

'  William  has  had  a  letter  to  Austin  on  the  stocks  for 
some  days.     I  hope  it  went  a  day  or  two  ago. 

'  Love  to  all. 

'  Ever  yours  afftly., 

John  H.  Newman.' 

Between  Newman's  audience  and  the  Consistory  of  May 
at  which  the  Hat  was  conferred,  by  the  doctor's  advice  he 
hardly  left  his  room,  for  the  weather  was  bad  and  his  cold 
severe. 

The  great  day  arrived,  and  Father  Neville  writes  of  it 
thus  : 

*  On  Monday  morning,  May  12,  Dr.  Newman  went  to  the 
Palazzo  della  Pigna,  the  residence  of  Cardinal  Howard,  who 
had  lent  him  his  apartments  to  receive  there  the  messenger 
from   the  Vatican   bearing  the  biglietto  from  the  Cardinal- 


I  ^ 

•^  "-    jc 

—  ■--"** 

>s  j%)  <: 

z.  e  - 

■"  5  ^ 

5  ■    o 


■c   "^  ^ 
■=■5^0 

(8    ^  \, 

o  I  ^ 


-^ 


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^ 


THE   CARDINALATE  (1879)  459 

Secretary  of  State,  informing  him  that  in  a  secret  Consistory 
held  that  morning  his  HoHness  had  deigned  to  raise  him  to 
the  rank  of  Cardinal.  By  eleven  o'clock  the  room  was 
crowded  with  English  and  American  Catholics,  ecclesiastics 
and  laymen,  as  well  as  many  members  of  the  Roman  nobility 
and  dignitaries  of  the  Church,  assembled  to  witness  the  cere- 
mony. Soon  after  midday  the  consistorial  messenger  was 
announced.  He  handed  the  biglietto  to  Cardinal  Newman, 
who,  having  broken  the  seal,  gave  it  to  Dr.  Clifford,  Bishop 
of  Clifton,  who  read  the  contents.  The  messenger  having 
then  informed  the  newly  created  Cardinal  that  his  Holiness 
would  receive  him  at  the  Vatican  the  next  morning  at  ten 
o'clock  to  confer  the  biretta  upon  him,  and  having  paid  the 
customary  compliments,  his  Eminence  replied  in  what  has 
become  known  as  his  "  Biglietto  Speech  "  as  follows  : 

' "  Vi  ringrazio,  Monsignorc,  per  la  participazione  che 
m'avete  fatto  dell'  alto  onore  che  il  Santo  Padre  si  e  degnato 
conferire  sulla  mia  umile  persona — ■ 

' "  And  if  I  ask  your  permission  to  continue  my  address 
to  you,  not  in  your  musical  language,  but  in  my  own  dear 
mother  tongue,  it  is  because  in  the  latter  I  can  better  express 
my  feelings  on  this  most  gracious  announcement  which  you 
have  brought  to  me  than  if  I  attempted  what  is  above  me. 

'  "  First  of  all  then,  I  am  led  to  speak  of  the  wonder  and 
profound  gratitude  which  came  upon  me,  and  which  is  upon 
me  still,  at  the  condescension  and  love  towards  me  of  the 
Holy  Father,  in  singling  me  out  for  so  immense  an  honour. 
It  was  a  great  surprise.  Such  an  elevation  had  never  come 
into  my  thoughts,  and  seemed  to  be  out  of  keeping  with  all 
my  antecedents.  I  had  passed  through  many  trials,  but  they 
were  over ;  and  now  the  end  of  all  things  had  almost  come 
to  me,  and  I  was  at  peace.  And  was  it  possible  that  after 
all  I  had  lived  through  so  many  years  for  this } 

' "  Nor  is  It  easy  to  see  how  I  cotdd  have  borne  so  great 
a  shock,  had  not  the  Holy  Father  resolved  on  a  second  act  of 
condescension  towards  me,  which  tempered  it,  and  was  to  all 
who  heard  of  it  a  touching  evidence  of  his  kindly  and 
{jenerous  nature.  He  felt  for  me,  and  he  told  me  the  reasons 
why  he  raised  me  to  this  high  position.  Besides  other  words 
of  encouragement,  he  said  his  act  was  a  recognition  of  my 
zeal  and  good  service  for  so  many  years  in  the  Catholic 
cause  ;  moreover,  he  judged  it  would  give  pleasure  to  English 
Catholics,  and  even  to  Protestant  England,  if  I  received  some 
mark  of  his  favour.  After  such  gracious  words  from  his 
Holiness,  I  should  have  been  insensible  and  heartless  if  I  had 
had  scruples  any  longer. 


46o  LIFE    OF   CARDINAL    NEWMAN 

'  "  This  is  what  he  had  the  kindness  to  say  to  me,  and  what 
could  I  want  more  ?  In  a  long  course  of  years  I  have  made 
many  mistakes.  I  have  nothing  of  that  high  perfection 
which  belongs  to  the  writings  of  saints,  viz.,  that  error  cannot 
be  found  in  them  ;  but  what  I  trust  that  I  may  claim  all  through 
what  I  have  written,  is  this, — an  honest  intention,  an  absence 
of  private  ends,  a  temper  of  obedience,  a  willingness  to  be 
corrected,  a  dread  of  error,  a  desire  to  serve  Holy  Church, 
and,  through  Divine  mercy,  a  fair  measure  of  success.  And, 
I  rejoice  to  say,  to  one  great  mischief  I  have  from  the  first 
opposed  myself.  For  thirty,  forty,  fifty  years  I  have  resisted 
to  the  best  of  my  powers  the  spirit  of  Liberalism  in  religion. 
Never  did  Holy  Church  need  champions  against  it  more 
sorely  than  now,  when,  alas !  it  is  an  error  overspreading,  as  a 
snare,  the  whole  earth  ;  and  on  this  great  occasion,  when  it  is 
natural  for  one  who  is  in  my  place  to  look  out  upon  the  world, 
and  upon  Holy  Church  as  in  it,  and  upon  her  future,  it  will 
not,  I  hope,  be  considered  out  of  place,  if  I  renew  the  protest 
against  it  which  I  have  made  so  often. 

' "  Liberalism  in  religion  is  the  doctrine  that  there  is  no 
positive  truth  in  religion,  but  that  one  creed  is  as  good  as 
another,  and  this  is  the  teaching  which  is  gaining  substance 
and  force  daily.  It  is  inconsistent  with  any  recognition  of 
any  religion,  as  true.  It  teaches  that  all  are  to  be  tolerated, 
for  all  are  matters  of  opinion.  Revealed  religion  is  not  a 
truth,  but  a  sentiment  and  a  taste  ;  not  an  objective  fact,  not 
miraculous  ;  and  it  is  the  right  of  each  individual  to  make  it 
say  just  what  strikes  his  fancy.  Devotion  is  not  necessarily 
founded  on  faith.  Men  may  go  to  Protestant  Churches  and 
to  Catholic,  may  get  good  from  both  and  belong  to  neither. 
They  may  fraternise  together  in  spiritual  thoughts  and  feel- 
ings, without  having  any  views  at  all  of  doctrines  in  common, 
or  seeing  the  need  of  them.  Since,  then,  religion  is  so  per- 
sonal a  peculiarity  and  so  private  a  possession,  we  must  of 
necessity  ignore  it  in  the  intercourse  of  man  with  man.  If  a 
man  puts  on  a  new  religion  every  morning,  what  is  that  to 
you  ?  It  is  as  impertinent  to  think  about  a  man's  religion 
as  about  his  sources  of  income  or  his  management  of  his 
family.     Religion  is  in  no  sense  the  bond  of  society. 

' "  Hitherto  the  civil  power  has  been  Christian.  Even  in 
countries  separated  from  the  Church,  as  in  my  own,  the 
dictum  was  in  force,  when  I  was  young,  that  :  '  Christianity 
was  the  law  of  the  land.'  Now,  everywhere  that  goodly 
framework  of  society,  which  is  the  creation  of  Christianity,  is 
throwing    off   Christianity.       The   dzctmn    to    which    I    have 


THE   CARDINALATE  (1879)  461 

referred,  with  a  hundred  others  which  followed  upon  it,  is 
gone,  or  is  going  everywhere  ;  and,  by  the  end  of  the  century, 
unless  the  Almighty  interferes,  it  will  \ic  forgotten.  Hitherto, 
it  has  been  considered  that  religion  alone,  with  its  super- 
natural sanctions,  was  strong  enough  to  secure  submission 
of  the  masses  of  our  population  to  law  and  order  ;  now  the 
Philosophers  and  Politicians  are  bent  on  satisfying  this 
problem  without  the  aid  of  Christianity.  Instead  of  the 
Church's  authority  and  teaching,  they  would  substitute  first 
of  all  a  universal  and  thoroughly  secular  education,  calculated 
to  bring  home  to  every  individual  that  to  be  orderly,  indus- 
trious, and  sober  is  his  personal  interest.  Then,  for  great 
working  principles  to  take  the  place  of  religion,  for  the  use  of 
the  masses  thus  carefully  educated,  it  provides — the  broad 
fundamental  ethical  truths,  of  justice,  benevolence,  veracity, 
and  the  like  ;  proved  experience  ;  and  those  natural  laws 
which  exist  and  act  spontaneously  in  society,  and  in  social 
matters,  whether  physical  or  psychological  ;  for  instance,  in 
government,  trade,  finance,  sanitary  experiments,  and  the 
intercourse  of  nations.  As  to  Religion,  it  is  a  private  luxury, 
which  a  man  may  have  if  he  will  ;  but  which  of  course  he 
must  pay  for,  and  which  he  must  not  obtrude  upon  others,  or 
indulge  in  to  their  annoyance. 

' "  The  general  [nature]  of  this  great  apostasia  is  one  and 
the  same  everywhere  ;  but  in  detail,  and  in  character,  it 
varies  in  different  countries.  For  myself,  I  would  rather 
speak  of  it  in  my  own  country,  which  I  know.  There,  I 
think  it  threatens  to  have  a  formidable  success  ;  though  it  is 
not  easy  to  see  what  will  be  its  ultimate  issue.  At  first  sight 
it  might  be  thought  that  Englishmen  are  too  religious  for  a 
movement  which,  on  the  continent,  seems  to  be  founded  on 
infidelity  ;  but  the  misfortune  with  us  is,  that,  though  it  ends 
in  infidelity  as  in  other  places,  it  does  not  necessarily  arise 
out  of  infidelity.  It  must  be  recollected  that  the  religious 
sects,  which  sprang  up  in  England  three  centuries  ago,  and 
which  are  so  powerful  now,  have  ever  been  fiercely  opposed 
to  the  Union  of  Church  and  State,  and  would  advocate  the 
unChristianising  of  the  monarchy  and  all  that  belongs  to  it, 
under  the  notion  that  such  a  catastrophe  would  make 
Christianity  much  more  pure  and  much  more  powerful. 
Next  the  liberal  principle  is  forced  on  us  from  the  necessity 
of  the  case.  Consider  what  follows  from  the  very  fact  of 
these  many  sects.  They  constitute  the  religion,  it  is  sup- 
posed, of  half  the  population  ;  and  recollect,  our  mode  of 
government  is  popular.     Every  dozen  men  taken  at  random 


462  LIFE   OF   CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

whom  you  meet  in  the  streets  have  a  share  in  political  power, 
— when  you  inquire  into  their  forms  of  belief,  perhaps  they 
represent  one  or  other  of  as  many  as  seven  religions  ;  how 
can  they  possibly  act  together  in  municipal  or  in  national 
matters,  if  each  insists  on  the  recognition  of  his  own  religious 
denomination  ?  All  action  would  be  at  a  deadlock  unless 
the  subject  of  religion  was  ignored.  We  cannot  help  our- 
selves. And,  thirdly,  it  must  be  borne  in  mind,  that  there  is 
much  in  the  Liberalistic  theory  which  is  good  and  true  ;  for 
example,  not  to  say  more,  the  precepts  of  justice,  truthful- 
ness, sobriety,  self-command,  benevolence,  which,  as  I  have 
already  noted,  are  among  its  avowed  principles,  and  the 
natural  laws  of  society.  It  is  not  till  we  find  that  this  array 
of  principles  is  intended  to  supersede,  to  block  out,  religion, 
that  we  pronounce  it  to  be  evil.  There  never  was  a  device  of 
the  Enemy  so  cleverly  framed  and  with  such  promise  of  suc- 
cess. And  already  it  has  answered  to  the  expectations  which 
have  been  formed  of  it.  It  is  sweeping  into  its  own  ranks 
great  numbers  of  able,  earnest,  virtuous  men,  elderly  men  of 
approved  antecedents,  young  men  with  a  career  before  them. 
'  "Such  is  the  state  of  things  in  England,  and  it  is  well  that 
it  should  be  realised  by  all  of  us  ;  but  it  must  not  be  sup- 
posed for  a  moment  that  I  am  afraid  of  it.  I  lament  it  deeply, 
because  I  foresee  that  it  may  be  the  ruin  of  many  souls  ;  but 
I  have  no  fear  at  all  that  it  really  can  do  aught  of  serious 
harm  to  the  Word  of  God,  to  Holy  Church,  to  our  Almighty 
King,  the  Lion  of  the  tribe  of  Judah,  Faithful  and  True,  or 
to  His  Vicar  on  earth.  Christianity  has  been  too  often  in 
what  seemed  deadly  peril,  that  we  should  fear  for  it  any 
new  trial  now.  So  far  is  certain  ;  on  the  other  hand,  what 
is  uncertain,  and  in  these  great  contests  commonly  is  un- 
certain, and  what  is  commonly  a  great  surprise,  when  it  is 
witnessed,  is  the  particular  mode  by  which,  in  the  event. 
Providence  rescues  and  saves  His  elect  inheritance.  Sometimes 
our  enemy  is  turned  into  a  friend  ;  sometimes  he  is  despoiled 
of  that  special  virulence  of  evil  which  was  so  threatening  ; 
sometimes  he  falls  to  pieces  of  himself;  sometimes  he  does 
just  so  much  as  is  beneficial,  and  then  is  removed.  Com- 
monly the  Church  has  nothing  more  to  do  than  to  go  on  in 
her  own  proper  duties,  in  confidence  and  peace  ;  to  stand  still 
and  to  see  the  salvation  of  God. 

'"  Mansueti  hereditabunt  tcrram 

Et  delectabuntur  in  multitudine  pacis."  ' 

Father  Pope  described  the  scene  in  a  brief  note  written  to 
Father  Ignatius  Ryder  on  the  day  itself : 


THE   CARDINALATE  (1879)  463 

'  Monday. 

'  All  has  passed  off  beautifully — an  immense  crowd — the 
Father  made  a  very  fine  speech,  which  you  will  see  verbatim 
in  the  Times,  and  which  is  very  heartily  enjoyed  here.  How 
he  managed  it  St.  Philip  knows  best — but  he  did  not 
cough — and  his  delivery  was  very  animated,  and  perfect, 
as  the  vehicle  of  his  words.  Several  Cardinals  have  come — 
more  will  be  coming  this  evening.  They  are  very  cordial, 
and  seem  very  earnestly  and  sincerely  to  look  on  the  Father 
as  a  glorious  addition  to  their  number.  One  said  he  read 
English  and  knew  the  "  Apologia  "  &c.  well.  I  am  now  easy 
about  the  Father — I  have  been  at  times  uneasy.  The  cough 
is  obstinate  and  weakness  great.  He  seems  to-day  quite 
himself.     Old  Wagner  from  Brighton  was  present. 

'  The  Italian  ladies  behind  me  were  unanimous  that  he 
was  :  "  che  bel  vecchio  !  che  figura  !  "  &c.  &:c.  "  pallido  si, 
ma  bellissimo,"  &c.  &c.  &c.  In  short  the  Father  was  quite 
up  to  the  occasion,  which  is  saying  a  great  deal.' 

Mr.  Wagner  himself  wrote  his  impressions  of  the  scene 
to  a  friend  : 

'  I  write  you  a  {&\\  lines  just  to  say  that  I  was  present 
yesterday  at  the  ceremony  of  Dr.  Newman's  receiving  the 
Letter  from  the  Pope  conferring  on  him  the  Cardinalate.  He 
was  in  Cardinal  Howard's  rooms,  where  a  considerable 
number  of  English  were  collected  to  witness  the  ceremony. 
After  the  letter  was  read,  he  made  a  beautiful  little  address 
in  English  to  those  present,  ending  with  the  motto  which  is 
in  the  Lives  of  the  Saints  he  published  at  Littlcmore.  "  The 
meek  spirited  shall  possess  the  earth,  and  shall  be  refreshed 
in  the  multitude  of  peace."  I  do  not  know  whether  the 
ancient  ceremony  of  giving  the  Hat  to  the  Cardinal  will  take 
place — the  last  Pope,  I  believe,  dispensed  with  it  in  his  latter 
years  ;  if  so,  I  shall  hope  to  get  access  to  the  Vatican  to  sec 
it.  Dr.  Newman  looked  ill  and  faint,  but  he  read  the  address 
in  a  beautifully  clear  voice,  and  it  was  a  very  touching  one, 
in  some  respects,  to  listen  to.  I  have  written  a  line  to 
Dr.  Pusey  to  tell  him  of  it,  as  I  thought  he  would  like  to  hear 
something  of  one  whom  he  loved  so  much.  Dr.  Newman's 
face  looked  quite  like  that  of  a  Saint.' 

Addresses  and  presentations  from  the  English-speaking 
Catholics  in  Rome  followed. 

Father  Pope  describes  in  another  letter  the  first  of  these, 
which  took  place  at  the  English  College  : 


464  LIFE   OF   CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

'  Wednesday,  May  14. 

'  The  presentation  at  the  English  College  went  off  grandly. 
Abp.  McGettigan,  Abp.  of  Benevento,  Bp.  Clifford,  and  a 
host  of  monsignori — English  swarming — the  present  tasteful 
and  costly — the  address  feeling  and  (better  still)  short — read 
admirably  by  Lady  Herbert- — and  the  Father's  reply  short, 
and  very  touching.  He  looked  very  noble  in  Cardinal's  attire 
— and  we  sent  to  the  Vatican  for  his  "  gentiluomo "  in  the 
picturesque  mediaeval  dress — with  sword — and  the  Father's 
biretta  on  his  knees.  Two  carriages  and  all  in  proper  form. 
But  the  Father  is  fearfully  tired  and  weak.  That  grip  on 
the  throat  and  bronchia  was  a  sharp  one — and  I  shall  be 
glad  now  to  see  him  home  again.  The  Pope  wishes  him 
either  to  pontificate,  or  assist  on  the  throne,  at  Chiesa  Nuova, 
on  St.  Philip's  day.     But  I  think  he  will  not'  ^ 

'  The  following  is  Father  Neville's  semi-official  account  of  the  presentation  : 
'At  eleven  o'clock  on  Wednesday,  May  14,  his  Eminence  Cardinal  Newman 
accompanied  by  Mgr.  Cataldi  Master  of  Ceremonies  to  his  Holiness  and  the 
Fathers  of  the  Birmingham  Oratory  who  are  with  him,  went  to  the  English 
College  to  receive  the  address  and  the  gifts  of  the  English,  Irish,  Scotch,  and 
American  residents  in  Rome.  He  was  received  at  the  College  by  Dr. 
O'Callaghan,  the  rector.  Dr.  Giles,  the  vice-rectore,  and  Mgr.  Stonor,  and 
conducted  into  a  large  upper  chamber,  already  crowded  by  ladies  and  gentlemen. 
At  the  further  end  were  exposed  the  complete  set  of  vestments,  rich  as  becoming 
the  intention,  but  plain  in  accordance  with  the  Cardinal's  desire,  a  cloth-of-silver 
cope  and  jewelled  mitre,  a  Canon  of  the  Mass  book,  a  pectoral  cross  and  chain, 
and  a  silver-gilt  altar  candlesticl<,  for  which  the  English-speaking  Catholics  at 
Rome  have  subscribed  as  a  present  to  his  Eminence,  together  with  a  richly 
illuminated  address.  On  each  vestment  was  embroidered  his  Eminence's  coat- 
of-arms  in  proper  heraldic  colours,  with  the  mo\.\.o  ^^  Cor  ad  cor  loquitur."  The 
Cardinal  having  taken  his  seat,  with  Mgr.  Moran,  Bishop  of  Ossory,  Mgr. 
Woodlock,  Bishop  elect  of  Ardagh,  Mgr.  Siciliano  di  Rende,  Archbishop  of 
Benevento  and  Mgrs.  Stonor,  Cataldi,  and  de  Stacpoole  on  either  side.  Lady 
Herbert  of  Lea  read  the  following  address  : 

'  From  the   English,   Irish,  Scotch,  and  American  Residents 

IN   Ro.ME. 

'  My  Lord  Cardinal, — We,  your  devoted  English,  Scotch,  Irish,  and 
American  children  at  present  residing  in  Rome,  earnestly  wishing  to  testify  our 
deep  and  affectionate  veneration  for  your  Eminence's  person  and  character, 
together  with  our  hearty  joy  at  your  elevation  to  the  Sacred  Purple,  venture  to 
lay  this  humble  offering  at  your  feet.  We  feel  that  in  making  you  a  Cardinal  the 
Holy  Father  has  not  only  given  public  testimony  of  his  appreciation  of  your  great 
merits  and  of  the  value  of  your  admirable  writings  in  defence  of  God  and  His 
Church,  but  has  also  conferred  the  greatest  possible  honour  on  all  English- 
speaking  Catholics  who  have  long  looked  up  to  you  as  their  spiritual  father  and 
their  guide  in  the  paths  of  holiness.  We  hope  your  Eminence  will  excuse  the 
shortness  and  simplicity  of  this  Address,  which  is  but  the  expression  of  the  feeling 
contained  in  your  Eminence's  motto,  "  Heart  speaking  to  Heart,"  for  your 
Eminence  has  long  won  the  first  place  in  the  hearts  of  all.  That  God  may 
greatly  prolong  the  years  which  have  been  so  devoted  to  His  service  in  the  cause 
of  truth  is  the  earnest  prayer  of  your  Eminence's  faithful  and  loving  children.' 


THE   CARDINALATE    (1879)  465 

The  effort  of  receiving  such  addresses  and  replying  was 
very  great,  and  Newman  soon  had  again  to  rest,  being 
thoroughly  tired  and  ill.  An  affection  of  the  lungs  followed 
which  made  his  doctors  really  anxious.  He  had  hoped  to 
visit  the  Holy  Places  in  Rome,  to  make  friends  with  other 
members  of  the  Sacred  College,  and  above  all  to  speak  often 
with  Leo  XHI.  All  this  had  to  be  abandoned.  Only 
twice  was  he  well  enough  to  say  Mass,  though  there  was  a 
chapel  in  the  house  in  which  he  was  staying  ;  only  twice  could 
he  see  the  Holy  Father.  His  chief  thought  now  was  to  get 
back  to  his  dear  home  at  the  Oratory. 

He  was,  however,  most  eager,  so  far  as  was  possible,  to 
use  the  new  weight  which  his  position  as  a  Cardinal  gave 
him,  and  the  opportunit}''  of  his  visit  to  Rome,  to  further  the 
great  aims  to  which  his  life  had  been  so  long  devoted. 
Later  on  we  shall  speak  of  his  plans  for  placing  before  the 
Holy  See  as  one  of  its  official  councillors  his  views  on 
the  contemporary  requirements  of  Catholic  education.  But 
while  in  Rome  there  was  one  purpose  which  haunted  him 
— which  indeed  Father  Neville  told  me  he  had  planned 
carefully  before  his  departure  from  England.  His  life-long 
friend  William  Froude  was  still  a  free-thinker.  Newman 
had  earnestly  hoped  and  prayed  for  a  change.  He  had 
reasoned  with  him  in  their  intimate  correspondence  when 
occasion  offered.  A  Catholic  wife  and  Catholic  children  were 
constantly  at  Froude's  side  to  second  Newman's  endeavours. 
But  the  years  had  gone  on  and  no  change  had  come.  In 
1878  Mrs.  Froude  died.  Her  husband,  broken  by  the  blow, 
was  travelling  in  South  Africa,  whence,  as  it  happened,  he 
wrote  Newman  a  letter  concerning  his  religious  position,  in 
which  he  discussed  the  question  of  religious  certainty  which 
was  the  great  issue  between  them.  This  letter  Newman 
had  received  before  starting  for  Rome,  and  he  had  it  in  his 
mind  that  the  prayers  of  a  dead  wife  might  now  be  aided 
in  their  effect  by  himself  with  new  hope  of  success,  and 
that  Froude's  heart  would  be  especially  open  to  religious 
impressions.  He  would  write  from  Rome  itself,  as  a 
Cardinal  of  the  Holy  Roman  Church.  Arguments  which 
had  formerly  had  only  the  character  of  his  own  personal 
reflections,  might  carry  new  weight  when  urged  by  one  who 
VOL.  II.  II  H 


466  LIFE   OF  CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

now  officially  represented  the  Christian  tradition  of  the  ages 
at  its  main  source.  In  spite  of  illness  Newman  persevered  in 
his  intention.  The  letter  was  written — a  marvel  of  lucidity 
and  careful  thought  at  his  advanced  age.^  But  while  the 
rough  copy  was  being  corrected  the  news  came  that  William 
Froude  was  dead.  He  had  died  at  Admiralty  House, 
Simon's  Town,  of  dysentery  following  on  drinking  some 
tainted  water  in  the  neighbourhood. 

Another  object  near  the  new  Cardinal's  heart  was  to  use 
the  sanction  which  Rome  had  given  to  his  views,  as  an 
instrument  for  winning  back  the  great  Dollinger  to  the 
Church.  Here  again  he  trusted  that  the  Cardinal's  Hat  might 
be  of  service.  The  fact  that  Rome  had  given  as  it  were 
her  imprimatur  to  his  own  views  on  theology  and  history, 
might  have  an  effect  which  mere  argument  had  not  wrought 
in  the  absence  of  this  significant  circumstance.  And  as 
a  Cardinal  he  could  speak  as  a  matter  of  duty  and  without 
any  suggestion  of  impertinence. 

*  It  was  his  intention,'  writes  Fr.  Neville,  '  to  have  returned 
home  by  way  of  Germany,  for  the  opportunity  he  might  thus 
have  of  personal  communication  with  Dr.  Dollinger.  .  .  . 
In  his  own  new  position,  it  was  due,  the  Cardinal  said,  from 
himself  to  Dr.  Dollinger,  not  to  pass  through  the  Continent 
without  going  to  him.  He  was  very  intent  upon  this,  and 
apparently  he  connected  his  object  mentally  with  the  solemn 
Ceremonial  of  his  Creation  as  giving  him  authority,  and 
power,  and  liberty  to  speak  such  as  he  had  not  had  before. 
It  was,  however,  a  subject  too  grave  for  many  words  :  his 
firm  and  emphatic  utterance  of  the  few  that  he  used  full)^ 
afforded  a  reading  of  his  mind  in  their  stead.  Again,  before 
leaving  Rome,  his  almost  silent  acquiescence  in  the  decision 
of  his  physician,  that  the  cold  and  laborious  route  home 
which  he  was  intending  could  not  in  conscience  be  allowed, 
was  very  expressive  of  his  solemn  and  calm  resignation  of 
his  purpose  to  the  over-ruling  of  the  will  of  God.  Neverthe- 
less, he  would  have  been  very  glad  indeed  to  have  carried  out 
this  intention  as  a  first  use  of  his  Cardinalate  in  the  service 
of  God.' 

He  had  promised  to  pass  some  days  at  Autun,  on  his 
homeward  journey,  and  see  once  again,  before  the  inevitable 

'  The  text  of  the  letter  is  given  at  p.  587. 


THE   CARDINALATE   (1879)  467 

separation  of  death,  his  dear  and  faithful  friend,  Sister  Maria 
Pia.  This  plan  he  was  loth  to  relinquish,  yet  the  effort 
seemed  more  than  he  could  safely  make. 

A  few  days  before  leaving  Rome  he  wrote  to  one  of  the 
Birmingham  Fathers  : 

'  Whitsunday  :  48  Via  Sislina. 

'  Thank  you  for  the  care  you  have  taken  of  my  rooms, 
etc,  I  hope  I  have  left  them  in  a  state  which  allows  of  their 
being  dusted,  when  the  time  draws  near  for  my  return. 

'  The  time  !  when  will  that  be  ?  I  was  sure  that  you  did 
not  take  in  how  ill  I  was,  though  my  letters  to  Lewis  and 
Francis  ought,  I  think,  to  have  struck  you.  I  wanted  espe- 
cially your  prayers,  and  I  hate  concealment.  Think  of  this 
fact,  that,  as  Cardinal  elect  and  actual,  I  have  an  altar  in  this 
house,  yet  in  five  weeks  I  have  only  said  Mass  once.  How- 
ever, today  I  said  Mass,  but  the  doctor  won't  let  me  say  Mass 
tomorrow.  He  says  I  am  not  safe  from  a  relapse,  and,  if  at 
Leghorn  I  am  at  all  unwell,  I  am  to  send  for  him. 

*  I  see  the  Pope  tomorrow,  for  the  second  and  last  time  ! 
Alas,  how  my  time,  humanly  speaking,  has  been  lost  here. 
We  shall  not  get  off  till  Wednesday  at  soonest.  At  Leghorn 
we  stay  according  as  we  are  comfortable  there,  at  the 
"Anglo-American  hotel."  I  am  in  a  dilemma  of  the  Mont 
Cenis  line,  which  is  too  cold,  and  the  Riviera,  which  is  too 
hot.  My  visit  to  Autun,  which  I  can't  give  up,  is  a  great 
trouble.  I  shall  remain  some  days  at  Dover  or  the  like  place. 
I  dread  the  receptions  and  answers  to  Addresses.  It  was 
these  which  knocked  me  up  here.  ...  I  think  I  shall  return 
to  Birmingham,  as  you  will  find,  an  older  man  than  I  went.' 

From  Leghorn  he  wrote  to  Sister  Maria  Pia  on  June  9 
announcing  his  impending  arrival  at  Autun. 

'  Think,'  he  added,  '  of  my  being  at  Rome  six  weeks  at 
such  a  festive  season  and  with  such  great  saints'  days  and 
having  said  Mass  only  three  times  and  having  been  into  not 
more  than  half  a  dozen  churches.     What  a  disappointment.' 

A  letter  from  Father  Thomas  Pope  to  a  friend  at  the 
Oratory  tells  of  the  route  homewards  : 

'  Ilutel  Anglo-Americain,  Livourne:  June  18,  1879. 

'The  Lather  has  just  received  your  pleasant  letter,  and 
enjoyed  it  much.  The  medal  looks  too  much  like  a  Roman 
Emperor — the  Father  says  like  Nero.  He  was  particularly 
pleased  with  the  letter  from  the  President  of  Trinity.  He 
walked  out  yesterday  on  the  passeggiata  with  benefit — and  is 
now,  to  all  appearance,  well.      He  is  very  weak  ;  and   the 

H  II  2 


468  LIFE   OF   CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

worst  thing  is  a  susceptibility  to  every  change  so  great,  that 
we  can't  calculate  how  he  will  bear  anything.  Actual  disease 
there  is  none — he  has  a  grand  constitution,  and  the  capital  of 
it  is  not  nearly  exhausted  yet.  I  marvel  at  the  ease  with 
which  he  has  thrown  ofif  his  several  illnesses.  Tomorrow  we 
go  to  Genoa,— Hotel  de  I'ltalie.  If  he  is  well  there,  and  has 
borne  the  journey  well.  Father  Paul  and  I  start  off,  so  that  we 
shall  reach  Birmingham  as  soon  as  possible.  .  .  .  The  Father 
cannot  be  at  home  for  St.  Peter  and  Paul,  so  far  as  we  can 
see  now.  He  may  be  so  much  stronger  as  to  get  on  quicker. 
But  the  doctor  wants  him  to  leave  Genoa  on  Saturday 
morning  for  Nice — to  stay  Sunday  at  Nice — Monday  to 
Marseilles— then  another  stage  to  Lyons— then  to  Paris.  .  .  . 
The  Father  is  very  eager  to  be  back— and  I  think  he  will 
return  straight  to  Birmingham — and  go  back  later  to  London. 
Even  now,  as  I  am  writing,  Father  William  is  urging  a  halt 
at  Spezia,  lest  the  whole  journey  to  Genoa  be  too  much.' 

When  Newman  got  to  Macon  came  another  disappoint- 
ment. The  doctor  peremptorily  forbade,  in  the  inclement 
weather,  the  proposed  detour  to  Autun. 

He  broke  the  news  to  Sister  Maria  Pia  in  a  sad  letter 
dated  July  3  : 

'  My  dear  Sister  Pia, — We  must  submit  ourselves  to  the 
Will  of  God.     What  is  our  religion,  if  we  can't  ? 

'When  I  got  to  Macon,  it  was  almost  determined  we 
should  cut  across  to  you  next  morning.  I  went  to  bed  with 
this  expectation — but  next  morning  we  rose  in  heavy  rain, 
and  my  doctor  had  a  great  fear  that  the  waiting  at  the 
various  stations,  and  change  of  carriages  with  the  damp, 
draughts,  and  worry  which  accompanied  it  would  bring  on  fever 
etc.,  for  you  would  hardly  believe  how  weak  I  am,  and  what 
very  slight  imprudences  have  caused  a  relapse  already.  So 
he  felt,  as  having  the  charge  of  me,  that  he  could  not  leave 
the  direct  road  to  Paris  in  which  there  were  no  stoppages,  no 
change  of  carriages. 

'  The  season  is  so  exceptional. 

'  Ever  yours  most  afifly., 

John  H.  Card.  Newman.' 

The  Cardinal  arrived  in  Brighton  on  Saturday  afternoon, 
June  28,  and  was  present  at  the  High  Mass  on  Sunday  at 
the  Church  of  St.  John  the  Baptist,  in  St.  James's  Street.  In 
the  afternoon  he  drove  round  to  the  various  churches  in  the 
town  and  paid  visits  to  their  several  priests. 


THE   CARDINALATE    (1879)  469 

On  Monday  he  went  to  London,  breaking  his  journey  at 
Bramber  to  see  his  old  friend  Dr.  Bloxam,  of  Magdalen, 
now  Rector  of  Upper  Deeding.  The  Agricultural  Show  filled 
the  London  hotels,  and  he  therefore  went  to  Rugby  for  the 
nio-ht,  reaching  his  home  at  the  Oratory  on  the  following 
morning,  Tuesday,  July  i,  the  Fathers  having  been  warned 
of  his  approaching  arrival  on  Monday  by  telegram. 

The  home-coming  is  described  in  a  letter  from  Henry 
Bellasis  to  his  mother,  written  on  the  day  itself: 

'  The  Father  could  not  obtain  a  bed  in  London  last  night, 
so  travelled  on  to  Rugby  and  came  on  this  morning  by  a 
train  arriving  3t  New  Street  at  10.45.  He  was  met  by  all 
the  principal  gentlemen  of  our  congregation,  many  priests 
and  a  large  crowd  of  people,  a  first  rate  carriage  and  pair 
was  in  readiness  belonging  to  one  of  the  ladies  and  on  the 
way  to  the  house  he  dressed  with  Fr.  Henry's  assistance  in 
his  red  trimmed  cassock  and  pink  ferrajuolo  which  is  a  sort 
of  cloak — red  biretta  and  skull  cap  of  course — so  that  when 
the  policeman  gave  us  in  a  solemn  whisper  at  the  front  door 
the  news,  "  They  are  here  sir  !  "  up  drove  the  carriage  (pouring 
with  rain,  by  the  bye)  and  the  Father  got  out  in  —so  to  speak 
— full  costume. 

'  He  then  went  to  the  Porch  of  the  Church  and  after  the 
usual  ceremonies,  kissing  a  crucifix,  incensing,  etc.  ;  the  pro- 
cession marched  up  the  Church — the  Father  under  a  canopy — 
and  filed  off  to  S.  Philip's  Chapel  where  the  Blessed  Sacra- 
ment is  kept.  After  a  short  prayer  the  procession  returned 
to  the  High  Altar.  Here  the  Father  knelt  on  a  prie-Dieu  in 
the  centre  of  the  sanctuary,  and,  after  some  short  prayers, 
went  to  the  throne,  where  we  all  came  and  kissed  his  ring. 
This  over,  his  throne  was  taken  to  the  centre  of  the  Sanc- 
tuary and  he  there  sat  down  and  delivered  a  most  beautiful 
and  touching  discourse.  It  was  to  the  effect  that  he  had 
now  come  home ;  what  a  deal  there  was  in  that  word  home  — 
he  knew  there  were  more  heroic  lives  than  that  of  a  ho7>ie 
life  e.g.  the  Apostles',  etc.  but  a  home  life  was  his  as  a  son 
of  St.  Philip.  Our  Lord  Himself  spent  30  years  of  His  life 
.shewing  us  what  a  home  life  ought  to  be.  When  away  at  a 
distance  he  thought  he  never  should  return,  but  God  had 
willed  it  otherwise,  and  he  had  now  reached  what  he  niight 
call  his  long  home,  which  he  hoped  might  end  in  heaven 
for  all  eternity.  He  then  thanked  the  Congregation  for  all 
their  prayers  and  congratulations,  saying  that  his  great 
weakness  prevented  him  from  doing  so  in  a  manner  at  all 


470  LIFE   OF  CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

expressing  what  he  really  felt.  After  this  he  went  on  to 
speak  of  his  great  privilege  of  being  able  to  go  to  the  Holy- 
City  and  see  the  Holy  Father  face  to  face.  He  spoke  of  the 
Pope  most  beautifully  and  ended  by  saying  that  he  was 
here  as  his  representative,  and  he  prayed  God  that  now,  we 
all,  in  whatever  station  or  circumstances  we  might  be, 
might  by  His  Grace  show  an  Example  of  what  Catholic 
life  ought  to  be  etc.  etc.  He  then  said  he  would  give  us 
his  blessing,  which  he  did  solemnly  as  a  Bishop. 

'  After  this  the  Te  Deum  was  sung  and  the  Ceremony 
ended. 

'  I  should  add  that  he  looks  thin  and  weak  from  his 
illness,  but  this  only  adds  to  his  magnificent  appearance.  I 
wish  you  could  have  heard  the  sermon — it  made  us  all  cry 
more  or  less.' 

'  No  one  I  am  sure  who  was  privileged  to  be  present,' 
writes  the  late  Father  Ignatius  Ryder,  '  will  ever  forget  that 
improvised  service  of  thanksgiving  for  his  safe  return  in  which 
he  took  part  immediately  on  his  arrival.  He  was  wonderful 
to  look  upon  as  he  sat  fronting  the  congregation,  his  face  as 
the  face  of  an  angel — the  features  that  were  so  familiar  to  us 
refined  and  spiritualised  by  illness  and  the  delicate  com- 
plexion and  silver  hair  touched  by  the  rose  tints  of  his  bright 
unaccustomed  dress.  Leaning  his  head  upon  his  hand  he 
began  to  talk  to  us  and  must  have  spoken  for  some  twenty 
minutes  or  more.  Every  word  seemed  precious — I  can  only 
hope  they  have  been  preserved — and  yet  simple  to  the  last 
degree  ;  about  hom.e  principally. 

'  If  I  remem^ber  right  he  began  with  the  vvords  "  It  is  such 
a  happiness  to  get  home."  There  was  throughout  what  was 
often  a  peculiar  charm  with  him,  the  impression  of  aloofness 
as  though  it  were  all  a  soliloquy  or  conversation  you  had 
innocently  surprised.' 

No  reporter  was  present,  but  the  following  is  left  by 
Father  Neville  among  the  Cardinal's  papers  as  giving  '  as 
nearly  as  possible '  his  words  on  this  occasion  : 

'  My  dear  Children, — I  am  desirous  of  thanking  you  for 
the  great  sympathy  you  have  shown  towards  me,  for  your 
congratulations,  for  your  welcome,  and  for  your  good  prayers  ; 
but  I  feel  so  very  weak — for  I  have  not  recovered  yet  from  a 
long  illness — that  I  hardly  know  how  I  can  be  able  to  say 
ever  so  few  words,  or  to  express  in  any  degree  the  great 
pleasure  and  gratitude  to  you  which  I  feel. 


THE   CARDINALATE   (1879)  471 

'  To  come  home  again  !  In  that  word  "  home"  how  much 
is  included.  I  know  well  that  there  is  a  more  heroic  life 
than  a  home  life.  We  know  the  blessed  Apostles — how  they 
went  about,  and  we  listen  to  St.  Paul's  words — those  touching 
words — in  which  he  speaks  of  himself  and  says  he  was  an 
outcast.  Then  we  know,  too,  our  Blessed  Lord — that  He 
"  had  not  where  to  lay  His  head,"  Therefore,  of  course,  there 
is  a  higher  life,  a  more  heroic  life,  than  that  of  home.  But 
still,  that  is  given  to  few.  The  home  life — the  idea  of  home — 
is  consecrated  to  us  by  our  patron  and  founder  St.  Philip,  for 
he  made  the  idea  of  home  the  very  essence  of  his  religion 
and  institute.  We  have  even  a  great  example  in  Our  Lord 
Himself;  for  though  in  His  public  ministry  He  had  not  where 
to  lay  His  head,  yet  we  know  that  for  the  first  thirty  years  of 
His  Hfe  He  had  a  home,  and  He  therefore  consecrated,  in 
a  special  way,  the  life  of  home.  And  as,  indeed.  Almighty 
God  has  been  pleased  to  continue  the  world,  not,  as  angels, 
by  a  separate  creation  of  each,  but  by  means  of  the  Family, 
so  it  was  fitting  that  the  congregation  of  St.  Philip  should  be 
the  ideal,  the  realisation  of  the  Family  in  its  perfection,  and 
a  pattern  to  every  family  in  the  parish,  in  the  town,  and 
throughout  the  whole  of  Christendom.  Therefore,  I  do 
indeed  feel  pleasure  to  come  home  again.  Although  I  am 
not  insensible  of  the  great  grace  of  being  in  the  Holy  City, 
which  is  the  centre  of  grace,  nor  of  the  immense  honour 
which  has  been  conferred  upon  me,  nor  of  the  exceeding 
kindness  and  affection  to  me  personally  of  the  Holy  Father 
—  I  may  say  more  than  affection,  for  he  was  to  me  as  though 
he  had  been  all  my  life  my  father — to  see  the  grace  which 
shone  from  his  face  and  spoke  in  his  voice  ;  yet  I  feel  I  may 
rejoice  in  coming  home  again — as  if  it  were  to  my  long  home 
— to  that  home  which  extends  to  heaven,  "  the  home  of  our 
eternity."  And  although  there  has  been  much  of  sickness, 
and  much  sadness  in  being  prevented  from  enjoying  the 
privileges  of  being  in  the  Holy  City,  yet  Almighty  God  has 
brought  me  home  again  in  spite  of  all  difficulties,  fears, 
obstacles,  troubles,  and  trials.  I  almost  feared  I  should 
never  come  back,  but  God  in  His  mercy  has  ordered  it  other- 
w^ise.  And  now  I  will  ask  you,  my  dear  friends,  to  pray  for 
me,  that  I  may  be  as  the  presence  of  the  Holy  Father 
amongst  }'ou,  and  that  the  Holy  Spirit  of  God  may  be 
upon  this  Church,  upon  this  great  city,  upon  its  Bishop, 
upon  all  its  priests,  upon  all  its  inhabitants,  men,  women 
and  children,  and  as  a  pledge  and  beginning  of  it,  I  give 
yon  my  benediction.' 


CHAPTER   XXXIV 

FINAL   TASKS   (1880-1886) 

So  far  as  the  weight  of  nearly  fourscore  years  permitted 
it,  the  period  which  followed  the  conferring  of  the  Cardinal- 
ate  was  a  very  happy  one.  Tokens  of  universal  reverence 
multiplied  on  Newman's  return  from  Rome.  The  formal  re- 
ceptions which  were  held  to  do  him  honour  gave  opportunity 
also  for  expressions  of  gratitude  from  the  many  who  had 
owed  to  him  their  Christian  faith  or  their  religious  peace,  and 
it  was  brought  home  to  him  that  during  the  years  which  had 
seemed  to  him  simply  years  of  failure  he  had  in  fact  been 
doing  a  work  as  real  (if  less  conspicuous)  as  the  work  he 
had  done  at  Oxford. 

A  great  reception  was  given  at  Norfolk  House,  for  which 
others  besides  the  Catholic  world  accepted  invitations  in 
order  to  meet  the  new  Cardinal.'  Lord  Salisbury  came  from 
Hatfield  and  reopened  his  London  house  for  the  occasion. 
And  many  other  men  prominent  in  public  life  availed  them- 
selves of  the  opportunity  to  pay  honour  to  the  new  Cardinal. 
His  brethren  at  the  London  Oratory  also  entertained  him  at 
Brompton.  In  the  diary  of  one  of  the  Fathers  we  read  as 
follows  : 

'  The  Cardinal  assisted  at  Vespers  and  gave  Benediction 
at  the  London  Oratory,  and  gave  an  address  afterwards  to 
the  Brothers  of  the  Little  Oratory.  I  believe  it  was  touching. 
Lord  Emly  quite  broke   down.     Anthony  Froude  wrote  a 

'  Of  this  reception  the  Cardinal  thus  writes  to  a  friend  who  had  received  no 
intimation  that  it  was  to  take  place  : 

'  I  did  not  choose  who  should  come  to  Norfolk  House — nor  I  believe,  did 
the  Duke.  I  think  those  came  mainly  who  asked  to  come.  But  it  necessarily 
involved  great  confusion.  There  was  nothing  to  show  who  wished  to  come,  or 
who  were  in  London — and  how  many  days  and  hours  were  necessary  for  open 
house.  I  only  know  that  the  Duke  slaved,  nay,  the  Duchess,  and  the  Ladies 
Howard,  so  as  to  m.\ke  me  quite  ashamed  and  very  grateful.  Four  hundred 
people  came  one  day.' 


CARDINAL     NEWMAN. 
trout  a  I'/ioio^yapJi  (about  1882). 


FINAL   TASKS    (1880-1886)  473 

mournfully  affecting  letter  to  the  Duke,  asking  if  he  might 
come  to  the  Oratory  to  hear  it.  "  Since  last  I  heard  that 
musical  voice  my  faith  has  all  been  shattered  :  perhaps  if 
I  might  hear  it  again  it  would  at  least  awaken  in  me  some 
echoes  of  those  old  days."  I  do  not  know  how  far  exactly 
these  words  are  his  own  ;  I  have  them  from  the  account 
Fr.  John  gave  me  in  conversation.' 

Trinity  College,  Oxford,  invited  the  new  Cardinal  to 
dine  at  the  College  Gaudy  on  Trinity  Monday  1880.  The 
Cardinal  accepted,  and  preached  on  Trinity  Sunday  at  the 
Jesuit  Church  in  Oxford  to  a  crowded  congregation.  The 
dinner  on  the  Monday  was  a  far  more  stately  function  than 
that  which  he  had  attended  in  February  1878,  after  his 
election  as  Honorary  Fellow.  There  were  numerous  guests, 
and  ladies  were  invited  to  a  reception  in  the  evening.  These 
were  presented  in  turn  to  the  Cardinal,  who  received  them 
in  semi-royal  state.  The  late  Sir  Richard  Jebb  was  at  the 
dinner,  and  told  the  present  writer  that  Newman's  informal 
speech  on  the  occasion  was  a  model  of  perfect  tact  and  grace 
P^or  half  an  hour  or  so,  sitting  in  his  chair,  he  talked  to 
the  table  of  Oxford  memories — of  Whately,  Pusey,  Blanco 
White,  Hawkins,  and  many  another,  not  forgetting  his  old 
Trinity  tutor  Thomas  Short,  who  had  passed  away  since  his 
visit  of  1878. 

These  functions  were  physically  exhausting  to  the  Cardinal, 
but  they  were  the  outward  symbols  of  work  done  for  the 
good  cause  and  were  intensely  grateful  to  him. 

Cardinal  Newman  had  no  thought  of  otium  cu7n  dignitate 
for  his  declining  years.  The  whole  value  of  his  new  position 
consisted  in  the  influence  it  gave  him.  '  His  strength,'  writes 
Father  Neville,  '  which  had  been  so  severely  tried  in  Rome,  was 
rapidly  regained,  his  health  was  good,  and  he  had  the  happi- 
ness of  being  conscious  that  the  readiness  and  vigour  of  his 
mind  were  undiminished.  But  fatigue  during  exertion  came 
upon  him  more  quickly  than  heretofore.  It  was  a  warning 
to  him  that  he  would  have  less  and  less  opportunity  to  make 
up  for  loss  of  time.'  He  determined  forthwith  to  do  his  best 
to  make  the  Holy  Father  realise  the  difficulties  which  had 
for  so  many  years  oppressed  him,  as  to  the  position  of 
educated  Christians,  in  view  of  the  now  rapidl>-  rising  tide 


474  LIFE   OF   CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

of  anti-Christian  thought.  The  sad  question  which  he  had 
asked  in  1877  in  respect  of  tendencies  which  he  deplored, 
'What  can  one  writer  do  against  this  misfortune?'  was  no 
longer  in  place.  There  was  since  then  a  new  Pontiff, 
whose  policy  might  well  depart  from  the  '  non  possumus ' 
which  Pius  IX.'s  later  history  had  forced  upon  him  in 
politics,  and  which  he  had  sometimes  extended  to  the  intel- 
lectual movements  of  the  day  as  well  as  to  the  political.  And 
Newman  himself,  as  a  Cardinal  of  Holy  Church,  might 
have  an  influence  in  high  quarters  which  as  a  mere  writer 
he  could  never  attain.  He  meant  to  lose  no  time  in  urging 
on  Rome  itself  the  policy  which  since  the  days  of  his 
Dublin  campaign  he  had  so  keenly  felt  to  be  necessary 
for  the  education  of  Catholics — of  admitting  again  within  the 
Church  something  of  the  free  discussions  which  the  thirteenth 
century  had  witnessed,  with  a  view  to  revising  the  defences 
of  Christianity  to  meet  new  dangers.  This  involved  doing 
full  justice  to  all  that  was  strongest  in  the  anti-Christian 
arguments,  and  replying  to  them,  in  place  of  either  banishing 
them  as  temptations  or  caricaturing  what  was  cogent  as 
though  it  were  inept.  Not  that  for  a  moment  he  desired  the 
average  weak  mind  to  face  arguments  against  Christian  faith 
which  might  easily  perplex  it.  Indeed,  some  of  his  most 
characteristic  letters  of  this  time  are  directed  against  such 
intercourse,  on  the  part  of  Catholics  in  general,  with  anti- 
Christian  thinkers  as  might  weaken  the  hold  of  religion  on 
their  imagination.  But  there  must  (he  held)  be  a  body  of 
really  cogent  theological  and  philosophical  reasoning  in  the 
Catholic  schools,  to  fall  back  upon  and  to  inspire  confidence 
in  thoughtful  men  ;  and  this  could  only  be  elaborated  by 
frankly  and  freely  testing  in  actual  warfare  the  strength 
of  the  existing  apologetic  and  discarding  what  was  in- 
adequate. '  When  I  see  a  clever  and  thoughtful  young 
man,'  he  used  to  say  at  this  time,  '  I  feel  a  kind  of  awe  and 
even  terror  in  thinking  of  his  future.  How  will  he  be  able 
to  stand  against  the  intellectual  flood  that  is  setting  in 
against  Christianity  ? ' 

In  his  reminiscences  of  the  thoughts  and  tasks  which 
occupied  the  Cardinal  in  his  last  years,  Father  Neville,  his 
constant  companion,  writes  as  follows  : 


FINAL   TASKS  (18S0-1886)  475 

'  He  gave  himself  much  to  the  aid  of  persons  of  high 
culture  and  power  of  thought,  whose  difficulties  were  intel- 
lectual with  regard  to  the  faith,  even  as  to  belief  in  God  ; 
yet  were  earnest  to  do  right  if  only  they  could  be  sure  of 
the  Truth.  Trials  such  as  these  appealed  to  him  especially, 
and  drew  forth  his  most  tender  sympathy.  Moreover,  he 
was  conscious  that  he  himself  could  do  much  for  the  relief 
of  these  persons,  which  others  ordinarily  could  not ;  and  he 
had  it  greatly  at  heart  to  draw  them  nearer  to  the  Church 
and  nearer  to  God.  To  make  persons  who  were  Catholics 
happy  in  their  religion  was  also,  to  him,  another  great  aim. 

'  Services  such  as  these  occupied  him  a  great  deal,  and 
influenced  him  very  much  in  works  which  he  undertook  to  do.' 

In  a  memorandum  belonging  to  his  last  years  Cardinal 
Newman  thus  expresses  himself: 

'  From  the  time  that  I  began  to  occupy  my  mind  with 
theological  subjects  I  have  been  troubled  at  the  prospect, 
which  I  considered  to  lie  before  us,  of  an  intellectual  move- 
ment against  religion,  so  special  as  to  have  a  claim  upon  the 
attention  of  all  educated  Christians.  As  early  as  1826  I 
wrote,  "  As  the  principles  of  science  are  in  process  of  time 
more  fully  developed,  and  become  more  independent  of  the 
religious  system,  there  is  much  danger  lest  the  philosophical 
school  should  be  found  to  separate  from  the  Christian 
Church,  and  at  length  disown  the  parent  to  whom  it  has 
been  so  greatly  indebted.  And  this  evil  has  in  a  measure 
befallen  us,"  &c.  &c.  ("Univ.  Serm.,"  p.  14).  This  grave 
apprehension  led  me  to  consider  the  evidences,  as  they  arc 
called,  of  Religion  generally,  and  the  intellectual  theory  on 
which  they  are  based.  This  I  attempted  with  the  purpose, 
as  far  as  lay  in  my  power,  not  certainly  of  starting  doubts 
about  religion,  but  of  testing  and  perfecting  the  proofs  in  its 
behalf.  In  literal  warfare,  weapons  are  tested  before  they 
are  brought  into  use,  and  the  men  are  not  called  traitors  who 
test  them.' 

In  another  memorandum,  a  copy  of  which  he  sent  during 
his  last  years  ^  to  the  present  writer,  the  Cardinal  urged  the 
necessity  of  drawing  up  a  systematic  statement  of  the  main 
points  on  which  there  was  a  divergence  between  the  conclu- 
sions generally  received  among  men  of  science,  including  the 
Biblical  and  historical  critics,  and  the  generally  received 
opinions  in  the  theological  schools.  Such  a  statement  ought, 
'  It  was  sent  in  1886,  but  had  been  written,  I  believe,  a  few  years  earlier. 


476  LIFE    OF   CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

he  said,  to  be  forwarded  to  Rome  with  strong  representations 
as  to  the  urgent  necessity,  with  a  view  to  protecting  the  faith 
of  the  young,  that  these  questions  should  be  fully  and  candidly 
discussed  among  Catholic  theologians  and  men  of  science 
with  the  sanction  of  Rome  itself  Such  frank  debate  would 
result  in  the  erection  of  an  authority  on  the  subjects  in 
question,  which  would  inspire  general  confidence. 

Newman's  first  thought  was  to  return  to  Rome  him- 
self and  open  his  mind  to  his  brother  Cardinals  and,  above 
all,  to  the  Holy  Father.  In  his  "  Reminiscences  "  Father 
Neville  states  that,  on  the  occasion  of  his  visit  to  Rome  in 
1879,  some  of  the  Cardinals  had  greatly  attracted  Newman, 
and  he  desired  to  resume  conversation  with  his  colleagues 
on  subjects  which  had  largely  inspired  his  own  writings. 

'  He  determined,  therefore,'  writes  Father  Neville,  '  to 
return  to  Rome  for  a  time,  as  soon  as  the  re-establishment 
of  his  health  would  allow  it,  looking  forward  to  talking  with 
some  who  had  not  followed  him  in  all  his  writings,  and 
to  becoming  conversant  with  many  matters  of  interest  and 
importance.  Moreover,  and  above  all  things,  he  desired  to 
open  his  mind  fully  to  the  Holy  Father  on  those  educational 
subjects  which  had  occupied  him  so  much,  and  concerning 
which  his  knowledge  and  experience  were  exceptional. 

'  The  earliest  days  of  the  approaching  March  (1880)  had 
been  fixed  by  him  for  his  departure,  but  disappointment  again 
overtook  him  ;  an  accident  which  fractured  two  of  his  ribs 
confined  him  to  his  home,  and  the  opportunity  thus  lost  never 
returned.  Each  successive  year  left  its  deeper  mark  of  age 
upon  him.  One  thing  and  another  made  the  prospect  of  his 
going  to  Rome  more  and  more  distant,  till  it  became  con- 
templated only  in  case  of  some  emergency  incidental  to  his 
position  as  Cardinal  calling  him  thither  ;  or,  should  the  Holy 
Father's  position  become  perilous,  as  at  one  time  seemed  not 
unlikely,  then  he,  as  would  beseem  a  Cardinal,  would  be  at 
his  side.' 

One  extremely  interesting  fact  is  recorded  by  Father 
Neville  in  the  same  connection.  A  Cardinal  was  eligible 
to  the  Papacy,  and  Father  Neville  drew  from  Newman  a 
statement  as  to  what  he  should  do  in  the  highly  improbable, 
but  still  not  impossible  event  that  he  should  some  day  be 
called  on  himself  to  decide  the  policy  of  the  Church  on  the 
questions  of  the  day. 


I 


FINAL   TASKS  (1880-1886)  477 

'  Speaking  in  a  matter-of-fact  manner,  but  with  grave 
seriousness,'  writes  Father  Neville,  '  he  went  on  to  say  that 
his  time  would  necessarily  be  too  brief  for  him  to  do  anything 
himself,  "  but  this  I  could  do,"  he  said,  "  appoint  and  organise 
commissions  on  various  subjects,  and  thus  advance  work  for 
another  to  take  up  if  he  willed.  That  would  be  the  work 
for  me  to  do.  It  would  have  to  begin  at  once,  without  any 
delay."  Having  said  that,  then  with  the  briskness  and  relief 
as  of  one  now  seeing  and  knowing  his  way,  he  made  mention 
of  a  Pope  elected  at  ninety-three  and  dying  at  ninety-six, 
who  had  done  a  great  work  at  that  age  and  in  that  short 
time.' 

The  subjects  he  specified  to  Father  Neville,  as  specially 
needing  such  commissions  for  their  consideration,  were  Biblical 
criticism  and  the  history  of  the  Early  Church  ;  and  the  com- 
missions would  have  to  make  a  full  and  candid  report  to  be 
dealt  with  by  his  successor  as  he  should  think  fit. 

While  thus  anxious  for  a  satisfactory  intellectual  treatment 
of  the  bearing  on  Christian  faith  of  those  researches  which  were 
leading  so  many  to  reject  it,  Newman  showed  in  his  letters — 
as  I  have  already  intimated — a  keen  sense  of  the  part  played 
by  intercourse  with  unbelievers  in  predisposing  the  mind  to 
exaggerate  the  force  of  their  arguments. 

The  following  letters  illustrate  this  view.  They  are 
addressed  to  Miss  Bowles,  who  had  told  him  of  a  common 
friend  who  lived  much  in  the  intellectual  world  of  London 
and  had  ceased  to  be  a  Catholic  or  Christian  : 

To  Miss  Bowles. 

'  January  5,  1882. 
'  I  think  those  shocking  imaginations  against  everything 
supernatural  and  sacred,  are  as  really  diseases  of  the  soul, 
as  complaints  of  the  body  arc,  and  become  catching  and 
epidemic,  by  contact  or  neighbourhood  or  company,  (of 
course  the  will  comes  in,  aS  a  condition  of  their  being  caught, 
as,  on  the  other  hand,  in  the  cures  effected  by  St.  Paul's 
handkerchiefs  and  aprons,  faith  would  be  a  condition).  But 
were  I  deliberately  to  frcciuent  the  society,  the  parties  of 
clever  infidels,  I  should  expect  all  sorts  of  imaginations 
contrary  to  Revealed  Truth,  not  based  on  reason,  but 
fascinating  or  distressing,  unsettling  visions,  to  take  posses- 
sion of  me.  .  .  .  This  does  not  apply  to  intercourse  with 
hereditary  and  religious  Protestants,  but  to  our  Heresiarchs, 
to  the  preachers  of  infidel  science,  and  our  infidel  literati  and 


478  LIFE   OF   CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

philosophers.  This  leads  me  on  to  recur  in  thought  to 
the  fierce  protests  and  shuddering  aversion  with  which 
St.  John,  St.  Polycarp,  and  Origen  are  recorded  to  have 
met  such  as  Marcion  and  his  fellows— and,  though  it  may- 
be impossible  to  take  their  conduct  as  a  pattern  to  copy 
literally,  yet  I  think  we  should  avoid  familiar  intercourse 
with  infidel  poets,  essayists,  historians,  men  of  science,  as 
much  as  ever  we  can  lawfully.  I  am  speaking  of  course  of 
such  instruments  of  evil  as  really  propagate  evil. 

'  As  to  your  very  distressing  intelligence,  which  has  led 
to  the  above,  I  should  hope  and  pray,  hoping  with  great  hope, 
and  praying  with  great  anxiety,  that  like  a  bodily  complaint 
it  will  at  length  run  its  course,  though  the  course  may  be 
long. 

'  It  yet  pains  my  hand  to  write.' 

To  THE  Same. 

'June  15,  1882. 

'  I  do  really  think  it  an  epidemic,  and  wonderfully 
catching.  It  does  not  spread  by  the  reason,  but  by  the 
imagination.  The  imagination  presents  a  possible,  plausible 
view  of  things  which  haunts  and  at  length  overcomes  the 
mind.  We  begin  by  asking  "  How  can  we  be  sure  that  it 
is  not  so  ?  "  and  this  thought  hides  from  the  mind  the  real 
rational  grounds  on  which  our  faith  is  founded.  Then  our 
faith  goes,  and  how  in  the  world  is  it  ever  to  be  regained, 
except  by  a  wonderful  grant  of  God's  grace?  May  God  keep 
us  all  from  this  terrible  deceit  of  the  latter  days.  What  is 
coming  upon  us  ?  I  look  with  keen  compassion  on  the  next 
generation  and  with,  I  may  say,  awe.' 

While,  during  the  years  from  1880  to  1884,  Newman 
cherished  the  hope  of  going  in  person  to  Rome,  he  resumed 
the  tasks  which  the  Cardinalate  had  interrupted.  He  com- 
pleted the  two  *  Athanasius '  volumes,  and  from  the  papers  of 
Mr.  William  Palmer,  brother  of  the  late  Lord  Selborne,  he 
compiled  a  volume  called  '  Notes  of  a  Visit  to  the  Russian 
Church  in  1840-41.'  He  also  projected  a  Latin  version  of 
selections  from  his  own  writings  with  a  view  to  bringing  some 
of  his  views  more  easily  before  his  fellow-Catholics  in  other 
countries  and  the  authorities  in  Rome.  '  He  looked  forward 
with  great  brightness  to  the  prosecution  of  this  plan,'  writes 
Father  Neville.  '  Not  only  would  it  have  been  easy  to  him, 
but  also  congenial,  inasmuch  as  he  was  distrustful  of  foreign 


FINAL  TASKS  (1880-1886)  479 

translations  giving  correct  expression  to  his  ideas.  He  had 
gone  as  far  in  this  intention  as  to  make  some  beginnings 
as  specimens  of  his  plan,  when  unforeseen  causes  hindered 
him,  and  meanwhile  it  became  too  late.' 

Death  continued  to  come  in  these  years  to  relations  and 
intimate  friends.  The  Cardinal  knew  well  that  his  own  time 
might  arrive  any  day.  His  mind  dwelt  constantly  (Father 
Neville  used  to  tell  me)  on  the  awful  change  in  prospect,  and 
on  all  it  meant  in  the  light  of  Christian  faith.  And  in  some 
sense  merely  human  affections  paled  in  that  light  which  he 
was  ever  striving  to  see  more  clearly.  When  his  sister, 
Mrs.  John  Mozley,  died  on  Christmas  Day,  1879,  he  wrote  to 
her  children  that  he  had  said  Mass  for  her  soul.  The  letter 
appeared  to  them  to  be  marked  by  a  certain  absence  of 
expressions  of  affection,  and  her  son  sent  him  a  letter  in 
which,  while  expressing  his  confidence  in  the  love  of  the 
brother  for  the  sister,  he  recorded  the  impression  made 
upon  the  family.     The  Cardinal  wrote  thus  in  reply  : 

'  The  Oratory  :  Feb.  26,  1880. 

'  My  very  dear  John, — Thank  you  for  your  affectionate 
letter,  which  I  am  glad  to  have,  though  how  to  answer  it 
I  scarcely  know,  more  than  if  it  were  written  in  a  language 
I  could  not  read.  From  so  different  a  standpoint  do  we 
view  things. 

'  Looking  beyond  this  life,  my  first  prayer,  aim,  and  hope 
is  that  I  may  see  God.  The  thought  of  being  blest  with  the 
sight  of  earthly  friends  pales  before  that  thought.  I  believe 
that  I  shall  never  die  ;  this  awful  prospect  would  crush  me, 
were  it  not  that  I  trusted  and  prayed  that  it  would  be  an 
eternity  in  God's  Presence.  How  is  eternity  a  boon,  unless 
He  goes  with  it  ? 

'  And  for  others  dear  to  me,  my  one  prayer  is  that  they 
may  sec  God. 

'  It  is  the  thought  of  God,  His  Presence,  His  strength, 
which  makes  up,  which  repairs  all  bereavements. 

'"  Give  what  Thou  wilt,  without  Thee  we  are  poor, 
And  with  Thee  rich,  take  what  Thou  wilt  away." 

'  I  prayed  it  might  be  so,  when  I  lost  so  many  friends 
thirty-five  years  ago  :  what  else  could  I  look  to  ? 

'  If  then,  as  you  rightly  remind  me,  I  said  Mass  for  your 
dear  Mother,  it  was  to  entreat  the  Lover  of  souls  that,  in  His 
own  way  and  in  His  own  time.   He  would  remove  all   the 


48o  LIFE   OF   CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

distance  which  lay  between  the  Sovereign  Good  and  her,  His 
creature.  That  is  the  first  prayer,  sine  qua  non,  introductory 
to  all  prayers,  and  the  most  absorbing.  What  can  I  say 
more  to  you  .'' 

'  Yours  affectionately, 

John  H.  Cardinal  Newman.' 

In  the  following  year  Newman  lost  his  dear  and  faithful 
friend.  Mother  Imelda  Poole,  Provincial  of  the  Dominican 
Sisters.  Shortly  after  her  death  he  paid  a  visit  to  the  Convent 
at  Stone  that  he  might  say  Mass  for  her  in  her  own  home. 
One  of  the  Sisters  has  thus  described  the  occasion : 

'In  the  November  of  1881  Cardinal  Newman  had  the 
extraordinary  kindness  to  pay  us  a  visit  to  console  us  after 
the  death  of  our  own  beloved  Mother  Imelda,  and  say  Mass 
for  her  here.  After  his  breakfast,  he  came  to  the  Community 
Room,  and  spoke  to  us  in  the  most  beautiful  and  touching 
way,  of  the  joj/^  we  ought  to  have  in  the  midst  of  our  bereave- 
ment. He  said  that  in  spite  of  great  care  to  forget  nothing 
he  would  require,  he  had  forgotten  his  ring,  and  when  vesting 
for  Mass  had  asked  Dr.  Northcote  whether  there  was  such  a 
thing  in  the  house.  Then  he  heard  that  on  the  2nd  of  June 
1868  Dr.  Ullathorne  had  given  the  ring  with  which  he  had 
been  consecrated  Bishop  to  Mother  Imelda  as  a  memorial  of 
her  appointment  as  Provincial.  "And  t/its  ring,"  he  said, 
"  I  am  wearing  now  on  the  occasion  of  my  visit  to  her 
children."  The  consecration  of  the  Bishop  of  Birmingham 
was  the  first  occasion  on  which  Mother  Margaret  and  Dr. 
Newman  met :  the  ring  will  now  have  a  fourfold  association. 

'  After  dinner  the  Cardinal  asked  to  be  taken  to  the  Choir 
that  he  might  pray  by  Mother  Margaret's  and  Mother 
Imelda's  graves.  He  knelt  by  them  for  some  time  in  silent 
prayer,  evidently  deeply  moved.  There  was  a  most  wonderful 
hush  and  silence  all  the  time  :  no  sound  in  doors  or  out,  but 
a  profound  stillness.  It  was  a  dull  grey  morning  :  but  as  we 
.still  knelt  there  one  clear  bright  ray  of  .sunshine  suddenly 
darted  through  the  casement  and  fell  directly  on  the  grave  of 
our  dearest  Mother  Imelda.  The  effect  of  ^/lat  silence  and 
that  sudden  ray  of  light  was  something  impossible  to  describe. 

'  When  he  came  away  he  said  to  Mother  Y.  Raphael,  "  I 
would  not  have  missed  this  for  the  world." ' 

Cardinal  Newman's  feeling  as  to  the  true  way  of  looking 
at  death  is  apparent  in  the  very  touching  intercourse,  two 
years  later,  with  his  old  Oriel  friend  Mark  Pattison.     They  had 


FINAL   TASKS    (1880-1886)  481 

met  but  once  since  1845,  and  now  the  Cardinal  heard  in 
December  1883  that  his  friend  was  gravely  ill,  and  not  likely 
to  live  long.  The  incident  is  recorded  by  Father  Neville,  and 
I  give  it  in  his  words  ^ : 

A  mutual  friend  had  told  him  that  what  would  be 
Mr.  Pattison's  last  illness  had  evidently  set  in,  and  that  as  to 
religious  belief  he  was  in  a  most  desolate  state ;  and,  more- 
over, that  no  one  would  be  likely  to  have  good  effect  upon 
him,  unless  it  were  the  Cardinal  himself  The  Cardinal  was 
rather  seriously  ill  in  bed  with  bronchitis  when  this  sad  news 
came,  but,  at  once,  he  determined  to  do  what  he  felt  would 
be  best — to  go  himself  to  the  sick  man.  The  doctors  gave 
their  forebodings  of  what  would  be  the  result  to  himself  if  he 
went,  but  he  would  not  be  deterred.  *  Is  the  little  life  left 
me.'  he  said,  '  to  be  weighed  against  the  chance  of  good 
in  a  case  such  as  this  ?  Let  the  doctors  say  what  they  will, 
I  shall  go  ! '  He  set  to  work  in  his  own  quiet  way.  He 
wrote  at  once  to  Mr.  Pattison  : 

*  The  Oratory,  Birmingham  :  Dec.  27,  1883. 

'My  very  dear  Pattison, —  I  grieve  to  hear  that  you  are 
very  unwell.  How  is  it  that  I,  who  am  so  old,  am  carried  on 
in  years  beyond  my  juniors  ? 

'  This  makes  me  look  back  in  my  thoughts  forty  years, 
when  you,  with  Dalgairns  and  so  many  others  now  gone, 
were  entering  into  life. 

*  For  the  sake  of  those  dear  old  days,  1  cannot  help 
writing  to  you.  Is  there  any  way  in  which  I  can  serve  you  ? 
At  least  I  can  give  you  my  prayers,  such  as  they  are. 

*  Yours  affectionately, 

John  H.  Card.  Newman.' 

The  reply  came  at  once  : 

'Lincoln  College,  Oxford  :  Dec.  28,  1883. 

'  When  your  letter,  my  dear  master,  was  brought  to 
my  bedside  this  morning  and  I  saw  your  well-known  hand- 
writing, my  eyes  filled  so  with  tears  that  I  could  not  at  first 
see  to  read  what  you  had  said. 

'  When  I  found  in  what  affectionate  terms  you  addressed 
me,  I  felt  guilty,  for  I  thought,  would  he  do  so,  if  he  knew 
how  far  I  have  travelled  on  the  path  which  leads  quite  away 
from  those  ideas  which  I  once — about  1845- 1846 — shared 
with  him  ? 

'  I  have  added  a  few  of  my   own,  but  only  as  connecting-links  to    Father 
Neville's  notes. 

VOL.  n.  I  I 


482  LIFE   OF   CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

'  Or  is  your  toleration  so  large,  that  though  you  knew 
me  to  be  in  grievous  error,  you  could  still  embrace  me  as  a 
son  ? 

'  If  I  have  not  dared  to  approach  you  in  any  way  of 
recent  years,  it  has  been  only  from  the  fear  that  you  might 
be  regarding  me  as  coming  to  you  under  false  colours. 

'  The  veneration  and  affection  which  I  felt  for  you  at  the 
time  you  left  us,  are  in  no  way  diminished,  and  however 
remote  my  intellectual  standpoint  may  now  be  from  that 
which  I  may  presume  to  be  your  own,  I  can  still  truly  say 
that  I  have  learnt  more  from  you  than  from  any  one  else 
with  whom  I  have  ever  been  in  contact. 

*  Let  me  subscribe  myself  for  the  last  time 

'  Your  affectionate  son  and  pupil, 

Mark  Pattison.' 

Even  at  such  a  moment  the  Cardinal  evidently  felt  it  his 
duty  not  to  allow  his  large-hearted  sympathy  to  be  inter- 
preted as  an  abstract  doctrine  of  latitudinarianism.  But  he 
made  up  his  mind  to  see  his  friend  as  soon  as  he  was 
physically  able  to  do  so. 

'January  2,  1884. 

'  My  dear  Pattison, — On  consideration  I  find  it  a  duty  to 
answer  your  question  to  me  about  toleration. 

*  I  am  then  obliged  to  say  that  what  Catholics  hold  upon 
it,  I  hold  with  them. 

'  That  God,  who  knows  the  heart,  may  bless  you  now 
and  ever  is  the  fervent  prayer  of  your  most  affectionate 
friend 

'John  H.  Card.  Newman.' 

'January  4,  1884. 

'  My  dear  Pattison, — I  am  now  well  enough  after  a  cold, 
which  has  kept  me  to  my  room  or  my  bed  for  a  month,  to 
ask  you  whether  you  are  strong  enough  to  see  me,  did  I  call 
on  you. 

*  If  you  tell  me  yes,  or  at  least  do  not  say  no,  I  am 
strongly  moved  to  come  to  you  next  Monday,  between  11.58 
and  2.48. 

*  I  hope  this  abrupt  letter  will  not  try  you. 

'  Yours  affectionately, 

J.  H.  Newman.' 

The  sick  man  hesitated  at  the  sudden  proposal  of  a  visit 
which  could  not  but  cause  deep  emotion  and  perhaps  great 
pain.     Nevertheless  the  Cardinal  went  and  took  his  chance. 


FINAL   TASKS    (i88o-i886)  483 

'January  8,  1884. 
'  My   dear    Pattison, — As   you    only   said    "  no "    to    my 
coming  to  see  you  on  Monday,  but  implied   I  might  come 
to   you    some   other    day,    I    will  make   a    call    to-morrow, 
Wednesday. 

'  You  need  not  see  me  if  it  is  too  much  for  you — but 
my  coming  will  not  be  sudden  now,  as  it  would  have  been 
then. 

'  Yours  affectionately, 

J.  H.  Card.  Newman.' 

'  To  Oxford  then  the  Cardinal  went,'  continues  Father 
Neville.  '  He  had  not  had  any  extraordinary  expectations 
when  on  his  way,  for  he  knew  that  the  distance  unbelief  had 
travelled  was  immense,  and  that  its  cancerous  wound  was  too 
deep,  and  had  been  too  long  lasting,  and  too  long  trifled  with, 
to  be  cured  quickly  ;  but  when  leave-taking  outside  the  house 
door  in  the  college  quadrangle,  the  appearance  of  both  was 
singularly  striking  and  pleasing  to  see.  Perhaps  the  like  had 
never  occurred  before — a  parting  such  as  that — two  so  far 
from  ordinary  men,  each  at  the  brink  of  his  grave.  They 
had  passed  some  hours  together  alone ;  each  knew  that 
neither  the  other  nor  himself  could  live  long  ;  neither  could 
say  which  was  the  likely  one  to  be  first  called  away. 

'  The  result  of  the  visit  will  no  doubt  be  asked  for,  but 
it  will  be  in  vain  ;  for  the  Cardinal  was  not  the  sort  of  person 
to  say  much  on  what  was  so  grave,  so  anxious,  so  private  as 
this,  the  result  of  which  must  be  in  the  hands  of  God.  Never 
the  less,  what  he  did  say  was  expressive  of  satisfaction  and 
of  hope.  The  journey,  far  from  exhausting  him,  apparently 
quite  set  him  up. 

'  Mr.  Pattison  died  in  the  spring.' 

During  these  years  Newman's  thoughts  seem  to  have 
often  turned  back  to  early  days.  He  wrote  about  the  old 
home  at  Ham,  and  he  corresponded  with  some  of  his  rela- 
tions from  whom  he  had  been  long  separated.  On  Easter 
Eve  in  1881  he  dwells  on  his  early  recollections  of  his  mother 
in  a  letter  to  his  cousin,  Mrs.  Deane. 

On  January  5,  1882,  in  a  letter  to  his  old  family  friend. 
Sister  Maria  Pia,  he  recalls  the  loss  of  his  dear  sister 
Mary  : 

'  This  is  the  anniversary  of  my  dear  Mary's  death  in 
1828, — an  age  ago  ;  but  she  is  as  fresh  in  my  memory  and 
as  dear  to  my  heart  as  if  it  were  yesterday  ;  and   often   I 

I  I  2 


484  LIFE   OF  CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

cannot    mention  her    name   without  tears    coming  into    my 
eyes.' 

Very  gentle  and  tender  is  a  letter  written  in  the  same 
year  to  his  cousin  and  contemporary,  Miss  Eliza  Fourdrinier : 

'  My  dear  Eliza, — Your  letter  has  made  me  very  sad, 
especially  at  the  thought  of  your  solitariness,  as  being  the 
only  one  left  of  your  family.  Thank  you  for  writing  to  me. 
It  recalls  so  many  past  days  and  pleasant  meetings  of  which 
you  and  I  are  now  almost  the  sole  living  witnesses.  For 
many  years  I  have  had  it  in  my  mind  to  attempt  to  find  you 
out,  but  I  am  so  little  from  home,  and  with  so  many  engage- 
ments when  I  am  in  London,  and  felt  so  uncertain  of  your 
abode,  that  I  have  never  succeeded,  and  now  I  am  too  old 
to  think  of  it. 

'  I  recollect  well  the  last  time  I  saw  you,  I  think  [with] 
Annie,  and  your  dear  Mother,  who  seemed  to  me  to  be  look- 
ing older  than  when  I  had  last  seen  her.  If  I  am  right,  this 
was  July  30th,  1844.  She  died  in  1850.  I  believe  I  know 
the  days  of  death  of  all  of  you. 

'  May  God  guard  and  protect  you,  and  be  with  you  now 
and  in  the  future. 

'  If  I  can  find  a  photograph  of  me,  since  you  speak  of 
portraits,  I  will  send  you  one. 

*  Yours  affectionately, 

John  H.  Card.  Newman.' 

Before  the  idea  of  visiting  Rome  had  been  finally 
abandoned,  one  or  two  English  Catholics  of  influence  had, 
with  the  concurrence  of  some  of  the  Bishops,  re-opened  the 
discussion  of  the  proposal  that  Catholics  should  be  allowed  to 
finish  their  education  at  Oxford.  This  was  one  of  the  very 
matters  which  Newman  had  intended  himself  to  discuss  with 
the  Holy  Father.  Unable  to  leave  England  himself,  he 
gladly  authorised  those  who  were  proposing  to  make  the 
journey  to  place  his  own  views  on  the  subject  before  Pope 
Leo.  In  the  event  he  put  his  opinions  in  writing.  But 
before  quoting  his  words  on  the  subject  it  will  be  interesting 
to  cite  a  very  touching  letter  in  which  he  responded  to  an 
invitation  from  Lord  Braye,  who  was  about  to  go  to  Rome 
himself,  to  come  and  discuss  the  whole  subject  by  word 
of  mouth.  The  invitation  was  given  by  one  who  when 
writing  it  referred  sadly  to  the  difficulty  he  had  found  in 


FINAL  TASKS    (1880-1886)  485 

getting  such  urgent  needs  attended  to — the  effort  expended, 
the  unsatisfactory  result.  The  Cardinal's  health  did  not  allow 
of  his  accepting  the  invitation  :  but  his  heart  went  out  in 
sympathy  for  his  correspondent's  complaint.  He  wrote  as 
follows  : 

*  Birmingham  :  Oct.  29,  1882. 

*  My  dear  Lord  Braye, — I  thank  you  for  your  most 
touching  letter,  which  I  think  I  quite  understand  and  in 
which  I  deeply  sympathise.  First,  however,  let  me  say  a 
word  about  myself.  ...  I  am  thankful  to  say  that  I  am 
at  present  quite  free  from  any  complaint,  as  far  as  I  know, 
but  I  am  over  eighty,  and  it  is  with  difficulty  that  I  walk, 
eat,  read,  write  or  talk.  My  breath  is  short  and  my  brain 
works  slow,  and,  like  other  old  men,  I  am  so  much  the 
creature  of  hours,  rooms,  and  of  routine  generally,  that  to 
go  from  home  is  almost  like  tearing  off  my  skin,  and  I 
suffer  from  it  afterwards.  On  the  other  hand,  except  in 
failure  of  memory,  and  continual  little  mistakes  in  the 
use  of  words,  and  confusion  in  the  use  of  names,  I  am  not 
conscious  that  my  mind  is  weaker  than  it  was. 

'  Now  this  is  sadly  egotistical  ;  but  I  want  you  to  under- 
stand why  it  is  that  I  do  not  accept  your  most  kind 
invitations,  any  more  than  I  have  Lord  Denbigh's,  I  decline 
both  with  real  pain  ;  and  thank  you  both.  But  I  have  real 
reasons,  which  friends  sometimes  will  not  believe,  for  they 
come  and  see  me  and  say  :  "  How  well  you  are  looking !  " 

'Now  what  can  I  say  in  answer  to  your  letter?  First, 
that  your  case  is  mine.  It  is  for  years  beyond  numbering — 
in  one  view  of  the  matter  for  these  fifty  years — that  I  have 
been  crying  out :  "  I  have  laboured  in  vain  ;  I  have  spent 
my  strength  without  cause,  and  in  vain  ;  wherefore  my 
judgment  is  with  the  Lord  and  my  work  with  my  God." 
Now  at  the  end  of  my  days,  when  the  next  world  is  close 
upon  me,  I  am  recognised  at  last  at  Rome.  Don't  suppose 
I  am  dreaming  of  complaint ;  just  the  contrary.  The 
Prophet's  words,  which  expressed  my  keen  pain,  brought, 
because  they  were  his  words,  my  consolation.  It  is  the  rule 
of  God's  Providence  that  we  should  succeed  by  failure  ;  and 
my  moral  is,  as  addressed  to  you  :  "  Doubt  not  that  He  will 
use  you — be  brave — have  faith  in  His  love  for  you, — His 
everlasting  love — and  love  Him  from  the  certainty  that  He 
loves  you." 

'  1  cannot  write  more  today,  and  since  it  is  easier  thus 
to  write,  than   to  answer  your  direct  questions,   I   think  it 


486  LIFE   OF   CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

better  to  write  to  you  at  once  than  to  keep  silence.  May 
the  best  blessings  from  above  come  down  upon  you — and 
they  will.     I  am,  my  dear  Lord  Braye, 

'  Yours  (may  I  say  ?)  affectionately 

John  H.  Card.  Newman.' 

Bishop  Hedley,  Lord  Braye,  and  Mr.  Hartwell  Grissell 
obtained  an  audience  of  the  Holy  Father  early  in  the  year 
1883.  During  the  interview  the  Pope  made  several  inquiries 
relative  to  the  English  Universities,  and  wished  to  know  if 
Catholics  frequented  them.  Lord  Braye,  in  pressing  for  the 
removal  of  the  prohibition,  laid  before  the  Pontiff  a  transla- 
tion in  Italian  of  a  letter  he  had  received  from  Cardinal 
Newman,  in  which  he  had  urged  that  a  great  opportunity, 
and  a  great  necessity,  for  Catholic  influence  at  Oxford  was 
afforded  by  the  existing  state  of  the  University. 

The  letter,  dated  November  2,  1882,  is  as  follows : 

'  The  cardinal  question  for  the  moment  is  the  Oxford 
question.  Dear  Pusey  is  gone.  Canon  Liddon  has  mysteri- 
ously given  up  his  Professorship.  The  undergraduates  and 
Junior  Fellows  are  sheep  without  a  shepherd.  They  are 
sceptics  or  inquirers,  quite  open  for  religious  influences.  It 
is  a  moment  for  the  Catholic  Mission  in  Oxford  to  seize 
an  opportunity  which  never  may  come  again.  The  Jesuits 
have  Oxford  men  and  able  men  among  them.  I  doubt  not 
that  they  are  doing  (as  it  is)  great  good  there ;  but  I  suppose 
they  dread  the  dislike  and  suspicion  which  any  forward  act 
of  theirs  would  rouse.  But  is  it  not  heart  piercing  that 
such  an  opportunity  should  be  lost?  The  Liberals  are 
sweeping  along  in  triumph,  without  any  Catholic  or  religious 
influence  to  stem  them  now  that  Pusey  and  Liddon  are 
gone. 

'  This  is  what  I  feel  at  the  moment,  but,  alas,  it  is  only 
one  out  of  various  manifestations  of  what  may  be  called 
Nihilism  in  the  Catholic  Body,  and  in  its  rulers.  They 
forbid,  but  they  do  not  direct  or  create.  I  should  fill  many 
sheets  of  paper  if  I  continued  my  exposure  of  this  fact,  so 
I  pass  on  to  my  second  thought. 

'  The  Holy  Father  must  be  put  up  to  this  fact,  and  must 
be  made  to  understand  the  state  of  things  with  us. 

'  And  I  think  he  ought  to  do  this  ; — he  should  send  here 
some  man  of  the  world,  impartial  enough  to  take  in  two 
sides  of  a  subject, — not  a  politician,  or  one  who  would  be 
thought   to   have   anything   to   do   with   politics.       Such    a 


FINAL   TASKS    (1880-1886)  487 

person  should  visit  (not  a  "  visitorial "  visit)  all  parts  of 
England,  and  he  should  be  able  to  talk  English.  He  should 
be  in  England  a  whole  summer. 

'  Next,  how  is  the  Pope  to  be  persuaded  to  this  >  by 
some  Englishman  in  position  ;  one  or  two  so  much  the 
better.  They  should  talk  French  or  Italian,  and  remain 
in  Rome  some  months.     This  would  be  the  first  step.' 

It  remains  to  add  that  Leo  XIII.  listened  with  great 
interest  to  the  letter,  and  said  that  he  would  place  Newman's 
views  before  Cardinal  Manning.  This  letter  doubtless  pre- 
pared the  Holy  Father's  mind  for  the  representations  made 
ten  years  later,  which  led  to  the  withdrawal  by  the  Holy 
See  of  the  law  which  forbade  Catholics  to  frequent  the 
national  Universities.^ 

Cardinal  Newman  was  in  these  years  especially  kind  and 
encouraging  to  those  younger  men  who  hoped  to  continue  the 
work  of  Catholic  and  Christian  apologetic  after  he  was  gone. 
The  writings  of  Mr.  W.  S.  Lilly  had  already  for  some  time 
engaged  his  close  attention.  He  took  a  great  interest  in 
the  Catholic  Truth  Society,  which  was  being  organised  by 
Mr.  James  Britten,  He  used  his  influence  to  ensure  fair  play 
all  round  in  controversial  writing ;  and,  while  strongly  de- 
precating unfair  special  pleading  on  the  Catholic  side,  went 
out  of  his  way  to  protest  against  Dr.  Littledale's  '  Plain 
Reasons  against  Joining  the  Church  of  Rome,'  which  he 
regarded  as  an  untruthful  book.^ 

'  See  the  preface  to  Murphy's  History  of  the  Catholic  Church  in  England 
(Burns  &  Oates,  1892),  in  which  the  question  is  discussed  and  the  above 
interview  mentioned. 

*  He  protested  against  the  book  being  circulated  by  a  respectable  society  like 
the  Christian  Knowledge  Society,  with  the  result  that  it  was  struck  off  their  list. 
♦I  am  more  than  pleased,'  he  writes  to  Dean  Church  on  December  21,  1881, 
*  with  the  result  of  my  drawing  attention  to  the  Christian  Knowledge  Society's 
shameful  circulation  of  Dr.  L.'s  book  I  say  "  shameful  "  because  such  a  Society 
should  not  sanction  a  controversial  work  till  it  has  gone  through  a  careful  revision. 
Fifty  years  ago,  when  Blanco  White's  work  was  on  the  list,  no  complaint,  as 
I  think,  could  lie  against  the  Society,  because  he  was  a  witness  of  what  he  said, 
and,  if  he  coloured  facts,  it  was  not  intentionally  ;  but  Dr.  L.'s  book  shocks  me. 
However,  for  this  very  reason,  because  it  thus  affects  me,  I  am  sure  that  it  will 
also,  in  the  same  way,  more  or  less,  affect  others— and  I  have  quite  sufficient 
proofs  that  it  has.  ...  I  wished  to  protest  against  unfair  controversy,  and  thereby 
to  draw  attention  to  it.  Even  if  half  of  Dr.  L.'s  book  was  true,  that  was  no 
excuse  for  the  other  half  being  untrue.' 


488  LIFE   OF   CARDINAL    NEWMAN 

Father  Ignatius  Ryder's  book  on  '  Catholic  Controversy  ' 
(in  reply  to  Dr.  Littledale^  received  the  Cardinal's  especial 
approval.  I  had  my  own  share  in  such  encouragement,  and 
the  circumstances  which  led  to  it  have  a  certain  interest  in 
connection  with  the  Cardinal's  life  as  they  brought  about  a 
kind  of  posthumous  reconciliation  with  my  father.  My  father 
died  in  July  1882,  and  though  the  Cardinal  wrote  to  the 
family  and  said  that  he  had  offered  Mass  for  his  soul,  the 
letter  was  not  such  as  to  make  us  feel  that  my  father's 
opposition  to  the  Oxford  scheme  and  his  general  attitude 
in  later  years  towards  the  leader  who  had  been  all  in  all  to 
him  at  Oxford  was  forgiven.  In  the  same  year  I  published 
in  the  Nineteenth  Century  a  dialogue  called  the  '  Wish  to 
Believe,'  and  it  was  partly  the  interest  in  it  expressed  by 
the  Cardinal  to  a  common  friend  which  made  me  expand  it 
into  a  book.     The  Cardinal  read  it  in  its  enlarsred  form. 

On  Christmas  Day  I  received  the  following  letter  from 
him  with  '  A  happy  Christmas  to  you  '  written  across  the 
first  page : 

'  Dec.  20th,  1884. 

'  Dear  Wilfrid  Ward, — I  thus  familiarly  address  you  on 
the  plea  that  I  was  familiar  with  your  Father  before  you 
were  born  ;  also  because  when  an  old  man  feels,  as  I  do 
after  reading  your  book,  great  pleasure  in  the  work  of 
another,  he  may  speak  of  its  author  and  to  its  author,  with 
a  freedom  not  warranted  by  personal  intimacy.  But  my 
fingers  move  slow,  and  by  this  slowness  so  puzzle  my  brain 
that  I  lose  the  thread  of  what  I  want  to  say. 

'  I  do  really  think  your  Essay  a  very  successful  one,  and 
I  have  more  to  say  of  it  than  I  have  room  or  leisure  to  say 
it  in. 

'  First  you  are  dramatic,  which  is  a  quality  of  great 
excellence  in  a  dialogue.  It  would  never  do  for  your  argu- 
ments to  profess  to  be  irrefragable,  and  your  opponent  simply 
to  be  convinced  by  them.  Also,  it  is  the  only  way  in  which 
you  can  secure  a  fair  and  complete  hearing  for  him,  and  his 
side  of  the  question  debated. 

'  Next,  you  are  outspoken  and  bold.  You  are  not  afraid 
of  enunciating  what  so  many  will  consider  a  paradox.  You 
have  the  advantage,  (and  this  enables  you  to  be  bold)  of 
knowing  that  you  have  no  chance  of  hazarding  any  state- 
ment which  a  rigid  Catholic  critic  could  accuse  as  censurable 
This  is  what  makes  controversy  to  a  Catholic  so  difficult. 


FINAL   TASKS    (1880-1886)  489 

'  As  to  the  matter  and  main  argument  of  your  Essay,  it 
seems  to  me  you  mean  to  say  that  the  same  considerations 
which  make  you  wish  to  believe  are  among  the  reasons 
which,  when  you  actually  do  inquire,  Lead  you  prudently  to 
believe,  thus  serving  a  double  purpose.  Do  you  bring  this 
out  anywhere?  On  the  contrary,  are  you  not  shy  of  calling 
those  considerations  reasons  ?     Why  ? 

'  You  seem  to  me  to  insist,  with  an  earnestness  for  which 
I  doubt  not  you  have  some  good  reason,  on  the  difference 
between  believing  and  realizing  (which  is  pretty  much, 
I  suppose,  what  in  the  "Grammar  of  Assent"  I  have  called 
"  Notional  "  and  "  Real  "  assent)  and  to  be  unwilling  freely  to 
grant  from  the  first  that  there  must  be  more  grounds  in 
reason  to  a  religious  mind,  whereas  in  fact  a  religious  mind 
must  always  master  much  which  is  unseen  to  the  non- 
religious  ;  (not  that  there  is  any  real  difference  of  view 
between  us) — thus  you  allow  of  two  men  with  the  same 
evidence  and  equal  reasoning  powers  \i€\x\^  prima  facie  likely 
to  come  to  the  same  conclusion,  whereas  I  should  say  to 
Darlington  '  "  Stop  there— I  can't  allow  that  a  religious  man 
has  no  more  evidence,  necessarily,  than  a  non-religious."  I 
wonder  whether  I  make  myself  intelligible.  It  is  only  the 
mode  of  your  stating  and  arguing  on  this  point  which  I  do 
not  comfortably  follow.  And  you  may  have  reasons  I  do 
not  know. 

'  I  am  very  tired.  .  ^ours  affectly, 

J.  H.  Card.  Newman.' 

Marginal  note.  'You  have  expressed  just  what  I  want 
p,  192.     "  A  man  who  looks,"  &c.' 

To  his  criticism  I  replied  that  while — as  he  noted  in  his 
remark  written  after  the  letter  was  finished — I  had  actually 
said  what  he  wanted,  the  form  of  my  argument  called 
primarily  for  the  delineation  of  those  qualities  in  the  religious 
mind  which  made  the  same  facts  in  some  instances  more 
significant  to  it  than  they  were  to  the  non-religious.  That 
those  same  qualities  also  made  the  mind  see  additional 
evidence  I  had  admitted.     But  both  results  had  to  be  stated. 

I  was  asked  at  this  time  by  the  English  Catholic  bishops 

to  give  some  lectures  on  modern  unbelief  at  the  great  College 

of  Ushaw,  near  Durham,  in  which  the  future  priests  for  the 

north  of  England   are  educated.     It   was  in  January    1885, 

'  One  of  the  speakers  in  the  dialogue. 


490  LIFE   OF   CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

while  paying  a  visit  to  Bishop  Vaughan  at  Salford,  that  I 
arranged  to  do  this,  and,  encouraged  by  Cardinal  Newman's 
letter  of  the  previous  month,  I  wrote  to  ask  if  I  might  call  on 
him  on  my  homeward  way  through  Birmingham,  and  talk 
over  the  general  plan  of  the  lectures  with  him  before  deliver- 
ing them.  He  responded  most  kindly,  and  on  January  31 
I  arrived.  Much  of  our  conversation  was  of  interest.  But 
the  most  interesting  thing  to  me  was  that  when  we  talked 
of  my  father,  while  he  remained  quite  unmoved  when  I 
told  him  that  my  father's  love  for  him  had  never  changed,  he 
was  very  greatly  moved  on  learning  that  my  father  had 
wanted  me  to  read  philosophy  and  theology  at  the  Bir- 
mingham Oratory  in  order  to  be  under  his  influence.  This 
touched  the  mainspring  of  the  long  estrangement.  Want 
of  trust  had  struck  deeper  than  mere  opposition,  and  an 
unmistakable  sign  that  very  much  of  the  old  confidence  in 
the  value  of  his  guidance  had  remained,  did  far  more  to 
obliterate  past  resentment  than  the  knowledge  of  any 
merely  affectionate  feeling  on  my  father's  side. 

I  subjoin  a  selection  from  the  record  of  our  talks  together 
made  by  me  at  the  time  : 

'  I  arrived  at  Birmingham  on  the  afternoon  of  Friday 
J  any  30th,  and  having  first  left  my  portmanteau  at  the 
"  Plough  and  Harrow  "  went  to  the  Oratory.  I  asked  for 
Father  Norris,  as  I  thought  he  could  tell  me  best  what  was 
the  most  likely  hour  for  the  Cardinal  to  see  me,  but  I  had 
not  been  waiting  three  minutes  in  the  guest  room  when  the 
Cardinal  himself  appeared.  He  walked  without  a  stick,  but 
feebly  and  with  effort  I  thought.  He  first  asked  "  Where  is 
your  luggage  ?  Of  course  you  must  stay  with  us  some  days." 
I  said  it  was  at  the  Hotel  and  he  wanted  to  send  for  it,  but 
I  said  it  was  unpacked  already,  and  thanking  him  very  much 
added  that  the  "  Plough  and  Harrow"  was  so  very  near  that 
being  there  was  almost  like  being  in  the  Oratory.  He  then 
said  "  What  are  your  plans  ?  What  are  your  movements  ? 
Can  you  stay  at  least  over  next  Tuesday.  Tomorrow  is  a 
busy  day  with  many  and  the  next  day  is  Sunday,  and  they 
would  be  disappointed  not  to  make  your  acquaintance. 
Father  Somebody  (I  forget  who)  is  not  coming  back  till 
Monday  and  he  would  be  so  sorry  to  have  missed  you."  All 
this  was  evidently  meant  to  show  that  the  invitation  was 
bona  fide,  but  I  had  to  say  that  I  was  obliged  to  be  in  London 


FINAL  TASKS   (1880-1886)  491 

on  Saturday  evening.     He  then  arranged  that  I  should  stay 
for  dinner.     "  We  will  have  a  good  talk  tomorrow  morning," 
he  .said.     "  Though,  thank  God,  I  am  wonderfully  well,  I  am 
not  at  all  strong,  and  I  have  to  be  careful  as  to  when  and 
how  long  together  I   talk."     He  then   asked  me  about  the 
lectures    I    was    proposing   to   give   at    Ushaw    on    Modern 
Infidelity,  about  which  I  had  already  written  to  him.      I  said 
that  my  great  difficulty  was   that  1  felt,  from  all  that  I  had 
seen  of  young  men  of  18  and    19  in  Catholic   Schools,  that 
the  first  step  in  making  them  understand  the  danger  at  all  or 
take  any  intelligent  interest  in  the  subject,  must  involve  such 
an  exposition  both  of  the  reality  of  unbelief  as  an   existing 
fact  and  of  its  plausibility  from  a  certain  point  of  view,  as  at 
first  to  shake  the  faith  of  my  hearers  possibly,  or  at  least  to 
take  away  from    it,  in   some   cases,  its   security  and   repose. 
He  replied  that  he  was  very  glad  I  saw  this  danger,  and  that 
being  alive  to  it  was  the  best   security  that   I   should  be  on 
my  guard  in  the  matter.     "  I   have  just  been   corresponding 
with   Dr.  Cavanagh,"   he  said,  "on  this  very  subject.     He 
wrote  to  ask  m.y  advice  as  to  putting  infidel  difficulties  before 
young  Catholics,  and   I   put  before  him   the  very  thing  you 
are  now  saying.     I  think  no  one  could  tread  safely  on  such 
delicate  ground  as  the  foundations  of  faith  with  young  men 
of  the  age  of  18  to  22,  who  was  not  on  his  guard  as  to  the 
danger  of  unsettling  their   minds  too   much  and   so  doing 
more    harm  than  good."     "  Still,"  I  said,  "  you   think  such 
lectures  desirable  ?  "     "  Not  only  desirable,"  he  replied,  "  but 
indispensable.     I  am  only  pleased,  and  I  confess  rather  sur- 
prised, to  learn  that  Ushaw  is  alive  to  the  importance  of  this 
work.      I  had  thought  it  sleepy  and  deficient  in  intellectual 
vigour.     Young  men  must  be  prepared  with  answers  to  the 
intellectual  difficulties  they  will  meet  with  in  the  world,  or  in 
many  cases  where  the  strength  of  the  agnostic  position   is 
first  felt  by  them  in  the  absence  of  a  very  special  grace  their 
faith  will  go  suddenly  and  completely." 

'  He  then  said  that  to  him  it  had  always  seemed  that  the 
whole  question  between  belief  and  unbelief  turned  upon  the 
first  principles  assumed,  and  the  great  difficulty  is  that  you 
must  assume  something  ;  and  yet  how  are  you  to  prove  that 
our  assumptions  are  right  and  the  infidel's  wrong  ?  "  In  try- 
ing to  prove  you  must  have  assumptions,  thus  it  is  vain  to 
attempt  to  prove  your  assumptions.  If  a  man  says  to  me 
conscience  does  not  to  me  carry  any  intimation  of  a  Holy 
God,  Christianity  does  not  appeal  to  me  as  satisfying  my 
highest  nature  ;  many  of  its  details  seem  to  be  contrary  to 


492  LIFE    OF   CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

the  instincts  of  my  better  nature,  e.g.,  eternal  punishment  and 
original  sin  ;  an  eternal  destiny  seems  to  me  out  of  propor- 
tion to  human  nature  ;  we  are  '  over  gude  for  banning  and 
over  bad  for  blessing ' — if  I  say  a  man  comes  to  me  with 
these  first  principles  I  can't  answer  him,  and  I  certainly  can't 
prove  to  him  Christianity  or  Theism  are  true  ;  I  can  only 
say  I  think  differently  and  that  I  believe  him  to  be  wrong." 
I  asked  him  if  he  did  not  believe  that  a  man  was  responsible 
for  his  first  principles  and  that  wrong  first  principles  were, 
to  a  great  extent,  the  outcome  of  a  wrong  habit,  morally 
blameworthy  in  the  long  run,  though  perhaps  hie  et  nunc 
invincible  ?  "  I  quite  agree  with  you,"  he  replied,  "  and  that  is 
what  you  must  urge  on  your  young  men.  Rut  of  course 
you  would  have  a  difficulty  in  convincing  an  infidel  that  he 
was  to  blame  for  first  principles  which  seem  to  him  only 
common  sense.  I  remember  being  with  a  dear  friend  of 
mine  shortly  before  he  died  and  urging  on  him  the  testimony 
our  own  consciousness  bears  to  the  divinity  of  Christ's 
message,  and  he  only  replied  that  he  found  no  such  testimony 
in  his  consciousness,  nor  did  he  in  any  sense  feel  a  yearning 
for  immortality,  which  was  supposed  by  some  to  be  a  proof 
that  we  are  to  look  for  it  ;  he  rather  felt  that  his  time  was 
over  and  that  he  wished  to  go  to  rest :  '  edisti  satis  lusisti  satis 
atque  bibisti,  tempus  abire  tibi.' "  The  Cardinal  then  con- 
tinued to  talk  on  in  this  hypothetically  sceptical  vein  until 
dinner  time.  "  I  could  talk  to  you  for  half  an  hour,"  he  said, 
"on  the  common  sense  of  worldliness  and  the  folly  of  other 
worldliness.  This  life  is  secure  and  before  us.  The  Christian 
ideal  of  life  is  disproportionate  to  our  nature  as  we  see  it. 
It  is  based  on  unreal  enthusiasm.  Let  us  make  sure  of  what 
is  before  us.  Let  us  perfect  our  nature  in  all  its  aspects 
and  not  give  the  abnormal  and  unnatural  preponderance  to 
the  ethical  aims  which  Christianity  demands.  We  speak 
of  our  nature  as  testifying  to  Christianity.  But  is  this  true  ? 
Is  it  not  only  a  mood  which  so  testifies .''  Does  not  the 
calm  sober  study  of  mankind  and  of  human  nature  as  a 
whole  lead  us  to  wish  for  a  mens  sana  in  corpore  sano,  a 
nature  healthy  and  well  developed  in  its  artistic,  its  intel- 
lectual, its  scientific,  its  social  capacities,  as  well  as  in  its 
moral  ?  Is  not  the  ideal  Christian  life  a  very  risky  venture, 
based  perhaps  on  a  conclusion  due  to  prejudice  and  fanati- 
cism ?  This  is  at  least  too  possible  a  hypothesis  to  make  it 
wise  to  venture  all  in  the  supposition  that  Christianity  is  true 
and  give  up  the  certain  pleasures  of  this  life  for  what  is  at 
best  so  uncertain."     He  went  on  in  this  way  for  some  time, 


1^ 


FINAL   TASKS    (1880-1886)  493 

and  soon  I  was  beginning  to  press  him  for  advice  as  to  the 
way  in  which  I  should  deal  with  any  young  man  who  came 
to  me  and  talked  in  a  similar  strain,  when  the  bell  rang  for 
dinner. 

' "  We  have  talked  longer  than  I  expected,"  he  said, 
"  but  1  have  much  more  to  say  if  you  will  come  here  at  1 1 
tomorrow  morning." 

'  His  memory  seemed  then  hazy  and  he  asked  if  I  knew 
my  room,  having  forgotten  that  I  was  not  staying  in  the 
i  house.     After  dinner  the  fathers  sat  round  in  a  semicircle  in 

the  recreation  room.  I  talked  to  Father  Ryder  and  a  Scotch 
Father  whose  name  I  forget,  the  Cardinal  sitting  silent,  but 
occasionally  asking  what  I  said  if  I  referred  to  matters  which 
interested  him.  He  could  not  hear  clearly,  apparently,  at 
the  distance  1  was  from  him.  After  about  twenty  minutes 
I  in  the  recreation  room,  he  got  up  and  committed  me  to  the 

charge  of  Father  Ryder,  saying  that  he  hoped  to  see  me  at 
II  next  day.  His  manner  struck  me  as  indicating  that  he 
was  tired.  He  smiled  little  and  his  face  had  that  critical 
and  rather  unhappy  look  which  one  sees  in  some  of  his 
photographs. 

'  I  arrived  at  the  Oratory  punctually  at  1 1  o'clock  on 
Saturday  morning,  and  the  Cardinal  appeared  in  a  very  few 
minutes.  I  was  at  once  struck  by  the  change  in  his  manner, 
by  an  increase  of  animation  and  a  new  brightness  in  the 
eye  and  sweetness  of  expression.  He  began  at  once :  "  I 
have  been  thinking  a  great  deal  about  you  and  your  lectures, 
and  as  my  memory  is  not  good  now,  I  will  at  once  mention 
some  of  the  points  which  have  occurred  to  me  as  possibly 
useful  for  you.  First  let  us  go  back  to  the  question  of  first 
principles.  Of  course  there  can  from  the  nature  of  the 
case  be  no  direct  proof  that  one  set  of  first  principles  is 
sound,  another  unsound.  But  there  may  be  indirect  proofs. 
You  may  show  your  young  man  that  if  there  is  a  certain 
earnest  and  philosophical  frame  of  mind  which  leads  to 
truth  in  various  subject  matters,  it  is  probable  that  under 
normal  circumstances  such  a  frame  of  mind  will  also  lead  to 
the  adoption  of  sound  first  principles.  So  far  as  the  sceptical 
habit  of  mind  goes  with  want  of  depth  and  earnestness,  you  have 
a  strong  argument  against  the  probability  of  sceptical  first  prin- 
ciples." He  then  added  after  a  pause,  "  I  am  only  suggesting  a 
line  of  thought  for  you,  you  must  develop  it  and  illustrate  it." 
I  was  going  to  speak,  but  he  said  :  "  Let  me  now  go  to  another 
point  I  have  thought  of  for  you  lest  I  forget  it.  My  memory 
is  getting  so  bad.     Take  now  the  other  side  of  the  question. 


494  LIFE   OF   CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

Take  the  first  principles  assumed  by  the  unbelievers — the 
undeviating  uniformity  of  nature,  the  unknowableness  of  all 
but  phenomena,  the  inherent  impossibility  of  knowing  about 
God,  the  derivation  of  conscience  from  association  of  ideas. 
These  are  all,  or  nearly  all,  pure  assumptions,  and  I  should 
be  inclined  to  say  that  if  (which  God  forbid)  our  belief  in 
God  Himself  were  a  pure  assumption  void  of  any  proof,  we 
should  be  acting  not  one  whit  less  unreasonably  in  holding 
to  our  religion  than  these  men  in  the  unbelief  they  adhere  to, 
based  on  pure  assumptions,  entirely  unproved."  After  a  few 
other  points  we  got  on  the  question  of  miracles,  in  connection 
with  Huxley's  denial  of  their  possibility  as  being  (if  they 
occurred)  breaches  of  nature's  uniformity.  This  he  said  was 
far  more  unreasonable  than  Matthew  Arnold's  well-known 
saying,  "  The  great  objection  to  miracles  is  that  they  don't 
occur."  "  Now,"  he  said,  "  I  want  to  ask  your  opinion 
of  this  argument  which  has  occurred  to  me.  I  take  this 
paper-knife,  I  push  the  inkstand  with  it.  Here  is  distinctly, 
through  the  action  of  my  free  will  an  interference  with 
the  laws  of  nature.  If  these  laws  were  left  to  themselves, 
the  knife  would  remain  still  and  the  inkstand  unmoved. 
Take  a  stronger  case,  I  fire  a  gunpowder  train.  See  what 
a  tremendous  effect  I  produce  in  changing  the  ordinary 
course  of  nature.  Now,  surely  it  is  little  to  grant  that  if 
there  be  a  God,  He  can  do  what  I  can  do  ;  and  yet,  so  far  as 
we  know,  a  miracle  amounts  to  no  more  than  this.  Is  that 
a  good  argument?"  I  said  that  I  thought  I  had  much  better 
listen  and  learn  than  try  to  pass  criticisms  on  his  arguments. 
"  No."  he  insisted,  "  I  want  to  know.  What  I  feared  was 
that  if  it  has  not  already  been  thought  of,  there  must  be  some 
flaw  in  it  Have  you  seen  it  anywhere  ? "  I  said  that 
Mansel  in  his  Bampton  Lectures  gives  substantially  the  same 
argument,  speaking  of  the  chemist's  power  of  modifying  the 
normal  action  of  natural  bodies,  and  Mill  in  his  religious 
essays,  from  the  opposite  standpoint,  to  some  extent,  admits  its 
validity.  "  That  relieves  me,"  he  said ;  "  I  feared  that  if  none  had 
thought  of  it,  it  was  not  very  probable  it  could  be  sound." 
I  then  said  that  what  I  thought  would  be  urged  on  the  other 
side  was  this  : — When  you  move  the  knife  and  the  inkpot, 
according  to  the  modern  phenomenist  school,  your  action  is 
only  a  part  of  Nature's  uniformity,  and  not  an  exception  to 
it.  The  act  of  your  will  is  due  to  physical  conditions  of  the 
brain  ;  those  conditions  are  determined  by  physical  ante- 
cedents— health,  climate,  the  objects  surrounding  and  acting 
on  you,  &c.,  &c,  ;  thus  the  change  which  you  determine  is  depart 


FINAL  TASKS    (1880-1886)  495 

of  the  constant  cycle  of  cause  and  effect  in  the  phenomena 
world,  and  no  exception  to  it.  Of  course,  if  free  will  is 
admitted,  then  it  is  an  exception,  but  they  do  not  admit  it. 
The  action  of  God  on  the  other  hand  is  supposed  to  be  due 
to  no  physical  antecedents,  and  thus  is  actually  an  interference. 
Of  course  their  theory  is  a  great  assumption,  but  your  action 
in  moving  the  paper  knife  can  fit  in  with  their  assumption 
and  God's  cannot.  It  seemed  to  me  that  he  did  not  get  hold 
of  this  point,  tho'  it  may  be  that  I  failed  to  grasp  his 
answer.  He  seemed  a  trifle  irritated,  and  said  :  "  I  only 
contend  that  what  man  can  do  God  can  do."  We  then  got 
on  rather  lighter  subjects,  and  I  alluded  to  the  sceptic's 
definition  of  faith  as  "a  quality  of  mind  by  which  we  are 
enabled  to  believe  those  things  which  we  know  to  be  untrue." 
He  liked  it  and  said  "  I  wish  you  would  make  a  book  of 
such  sayings.  I  remem.ber  arguing  with  an  Evangelical 
friend  once,  and  I  gave  him  a  text  to  answer  ;  he  hesitated 
and  said  :  '  That  is  a  very  unevangelical  part  of  Scripture '  !  " 
[I  have  forgotten  the  text]  He  soon  went  back  to  the 
lectures.  "  I  would  be  very  particular,"  he  said,  "  in  press- 
ing on  the  attention  of  the  young  men,  the  nature  of  the 
proof  they  are  to  expect  on  religious  subjects.  They  must 
not  expect  too  much.  Butler  somewhere  compares  the 
imperfection  of  the  religious  argument  to  the  imper- 
fection of  a  ruined  castle.  In  many  cases  the  shape  of  the 
castle  is  quite  as  clearly  determined  by  the  ruin  which 
remains  as  it  would  be  were  the  castle  whole.  And  so  with 
the  proofs  of  natural  and  revealed  religion.  There  is  enough 
capable  of  expression  to  indicate  the  shape  and  character  of 
the  proof,  though  it  is  in  detail  very  imperfect."  After 
saying  one  or  two  more  things,  he  said  :  "  This  is  all  I  have 
to  say  to  you  about  your  lectures,  and  I  shall  pray  heartily 
for  their  success.  And  now  I  want  to  talk  to  you  a  little 
about  your  father.  I  wish  you  could  let  me  know,  for  it 
would  be  news  to  me,  the  real  secret  of  our  estrangement 
latterly.  He  seemed  determined  to  differ  from  me.  I  knew 
too  well  how  much  he  had  the  advantage  of  me  in  theo- 
logical reading — he  had  begun  earlier  and  had  given  more 
time  to  it — to  wish  to  differ  from  him.  I  followed  him  in  all  I 
could.  But  he  seemed  determined  to  make  the  most  of  our 
points  of  difference.  I  endorsed  one  of  his  letters:  'See 
how  this  man  seeketh  to  find  a  quarrel  against  me.'  Can 
you  tell  me  more  of  it?"  I  did  not  like  to  go  into 
many  particulars,  but  I  said  :  "  Well,  as  you  ask  me — 
does    not    the    history    of    the    Home   &   Foreign    Review 


496  LIFE   OF   CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

suggest  something  to  your  mind  ?  "  "  But  surely,"  he  said, 
"  your  father  never  thought  I  agreed  with  Acton  and 
Simpson  ?  "  "  Not  entirely,"  I  said,  "  but  he  thought  they 
were  a  great  danger  to  the  Church,  and  that  they  gained 
support  from  your  countenance."  "  But  I  never  really 
countenanced  them,"  he  said.  "  Still  I  could  fancy  that 
your  father  may  have  thought  some  of  their  views  the  out- 
come and  result  of  my  views  ;  and  that  I  ought  explicitly  to 
have  disclaimed  all  solidarity  with  them.  I  own  I  was  angry 
with  him  for  not  seeming  to  see  the  importance  of  avoiding 
the  danger  of  alienating  such  able  men  from  the  Church. 
And  perhaps  I  erred  on  the  opposite  side.  I  say  it  partly  in 
praise,  but  perhaps  partly  in  blame  of  myself,  that  I  had 
a  great  tenderness  for  those  learned  men  and  excellent 
scholars,  and  wished  to  do  all  I  could  to  prevent  our  losing 
the  great  advantage  which  might  accrue  to  the  Catholic  cause 
from  their  services  which  we  should  lose  if  they  were  simply 
treated  as  rebels.  But  from  first  to  last  my  opinions  were  with 
your  father  on  the  questions  they  raised,  tho'  I  was  angry 
with  his  tone.  Then  again,  what  did  he  mean  by  saying  to 
Allies  (who  repeated  it  to  me)  directly  the  '  Apologia '  came 
out :  *  There  I  told  you  so  ' .'' — '  so  '  meaning  that  I  was 
unsound  in  my  opinions."  I  said  that  I  thought  things  ran 
so  high  in  those  days  that  there  was  occasionally  a  want  of 
perspective  in  my  father's  way  of  looking  at  things — tho' 
of  course  it  was  not  for  me  to  speak  of  the  actual  points  at 
issue.  He  seemed  at  times  to  exaggerate  the  importance  of 
things  important  in  the  abstract,  and  not  to  see  that  practi- 
cally people  were  not  logical  enough  to  make  the  things  in 
question  so  important  in  them.  For  instance,  where  certain 
deci-ions  of  the  Holy  See  were  practically  accepted,  it  was 
possible  that  his  occasionally  laying  such  stress  as  he  did  on 
their  actual  infallibility,  which  was  at  least  a  matter  disputed, 
might  practically  give  the  Pope's  words  less  rather  than  more 
weight,  as  raising  a  dispute  and  arousing  party  feeling. 

*  I  then  said  that  his  affection  for  the  Cardinal  had  never 
diminished.  "  In  one  sense  I  knew  that,"  he  said,  smiling. 
"  In  fact  I  think  his  theory  was  that  I  was  all  the  more 
dangerous  because  I  was  so  attractive — that  I  was  a  sort 
of  syren  of  whose  fascination  all  should  beware."  But  by 
degrees  I  convinced  him  that  my  father's  reverence  for  him, 
as  well  as  his  affection,  had  never  diminished.  I  told  him 
that  my  father  had  wanted  me  to  go  to  Edgbaston  to  be 
under  his  influence,  as  he  thought  I  could  judge  for  myself 
in  points  of  theological  difference  between  them,  and  that  his 


/  ^♦^^  ^y^  *^    ^  y^-^-  /i    y 


Facsimile   of   the    first   and    last    pages    of    a    Letter   from 
Cardinal    Newman    to    Mr.    Wilfrid    Ward 


FINAL  TASKS  (1880- 1886)  497 

personal  influence  would  be  invaluable.  This  touched  and 
surprised  the  Cardinal  extremely.  He  seemed  at  first  almost 
incredulous.  "It  pleases  and  ojratifies  me  much  to  hear  that," 
he  said.  I  told  him  also — which  pleased  him — that  my  father 
said  to  me  on  his  death  bed  :  "  If  ever  I  recover,  one  lesson  I 
hope  I  have  learnt  in  all  the  pain  I  have  suffered,  is  that  of 
being  gentler  and  more  tolerant.  There  is  an  inevitable  and 
natural  difference  between  one  mind  and  another  for  which  I 
have  never  made  enough  allowance."  After  a  little  further 
conversation  the  Cardinal  said  :  "  It  has  been  a  real  pleasure 
to  me  to  have  this  talk  with  you  about  your  father,  and  1 
hope  you  will  not  forget  me  and  will  pray  for  me,"  Then 
he  gave  me  as  a  parting  present  the  last  edition  of  "  The 
Grammar  of  As.sent "  with  the  added  note  about  eternal 
punishment.'  I  sent  a  letter  afterwards  thanking  him  for 
his  kindness,  and  he  wrote  in  reply  :  "  It  pleases  me  very 
much  to  find  that  you  take  so  kindly  the  real  affection  I 
have  for  you  which  has  come  to  me  as  if  naturally  from 
the  love  I  had  for  your  father.  You  can  give  me  in  return 
your  prayers,  which  I  need  much." ' 

In  the  following  years  I  paid  several  visits  to  the  Cardinal, 
and  had  opportunities  of  learning  his  views  on  the  questions 
which  so  painfully  interested  him.  His  mind  was  perfectly 
clear,  but  I  gained  more  by  way  of  confirmation  or  correction 
of  the  inferences  from  his  own  writings  which  I  put  before 
him,  than  from  lengthened  discourse  on  his  own  part,  for 
which  he  had  not  sufficient  energy.  Readers  familiar  with 
the  last  chapter  of  the  *  Apologia,'  the  '  Letter  to  the  Duke 
of  Norfolk,'  and  the  preface  to  the  'Via  Media,'  will  find 
little  in  my  recollections  for  which  these  works  will  not 
have  prepared  them.  Yet,  as  they  make  some  points  more 
explicit,  they  are  perhaps  worth  setting  down.'^ 

His  special  anxiety  was  for  two  classes  of  men — first 
the  inquiring  minds  among  his  own  fellow-countrymen  who 

'  On  the  first  page  he  wrote  :  '  With  the  afifectionate  regards  of  John  II. 
Card.  Newman,'  adding  my  name  and  the  date. 

^  These  notes  are  not,  like  the  preceding  ones,  a  contemporary  record.  I 
have  written  them  freely,  and  here  and  there  filled  in  lactime  from  the  Cardinal'-s 
own  writings.  He  approved  an  article  which  I  published  in  1S90  in  the 
Nittetceitth  Century,  under  the  influence  of  my  intercourse  with  him,  called  '  New 
Wine  in  Old  Bottles,'  and  he  expressed  a  desire  that  I  should,  after  his  death, 
deal  with  the  papers  he  left  relating  to  the  philosophy  of  religion.  I  mention 
these  facts  as  my  justification  for  setting  down  my  impressions  of  his  meaning, 
which  here  and  there  go  beyond  his  actual  words. 

VOL.  II.  K  K 


498  LIFE   OF  CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

shrank  from  the  movement  of  reh'gious  thought  towards 
agnosticism.  He  felt  that  the  CathoHc  Church  could  give 
them  a  support  which  they  could  find  nowhere  else.  The 
visible  Church,  with  its  unbroken  tradition,  appealed  alike 
to  the  imagination  and  the  reason  as  bearing  witness  to 
religious  truth  against  the  unbelieving  world.  Yet  if  those 
very  difficulties  against  the  Christian  faith  which  gave  power 
to  the  agnostic  movement  were  not  appreciated  by  Catholic 
theologians,  inquiring  minds  who  had  been  affected  by  that 
movement  could  find  no  home  within  the  Church.  In  spite 
of  its  immense  prima  facie  claims  as  the  immemorial  guar- 
dian of  Christian  dogma,  as  the  ark  rising  above  the  flood 
of  human  speculation,  its  doors  would  be  closed  to  such 
men.  It  would  appear  to  them  to  demand  beliefs  which 
were  impossible. 

The  other  class  consisted  of  persons  of  the  same  kind 
who  were  already  within  the  Church — men  whose  studies 
made  them  familiar  with  the  main  currents  of  modern 
thought  and  the  trend  of  scientific  and  historical  research, 
and  who  found  traditional  theological  expositions  on  certain 
matters — expositions  handed  down  from  pre-scientific  times — 
inadequate  to  the  needs  of  the  hour.  There  was  a  real 
danger  lest  such  men  might  cease  to  be  Catholics  if  the 
theological  schools  did  not  become  more  closely  alive  to 
problems  which  were  exercising  the  minds  of  so  many. 

Two  things  seemed  to  him  immediately  desirable  :  first, 
a  great  development  of  specialised  research  among  Catholic 
students  ;  and  secondly,  fair  and  candid  discussion  between 
the  representatives  of  the  special  sciences  and  the  theolo- 
gians. He  wished  the  theologians  of  the  age  to  be  them- 
selves thinkers,  or  even  if  possible  men  of  science  ;  for  the 
real  trend  of  scientific  research,  and  its  demands,  apart  from 
cases  where  absolute  demonstration  was  possible,  could  only 
adequately  be  appreciated  by  men  with  a  scientific  training. 
Only  men  so  trained  could  do  justice  to  the  absolute  necessity 
of  certain  concessions  on  the  part  of  theology.  He  dreaded 
the  decay  of  theology,  which  must  come  if  theologians  ceased 
to  be  genuine  thinkers,  as  they  had  been  in  the  Patristic  and 
Medieval  Church,  and  if  they  became  mercl}',  as  it  were, 
lawyers    well    versed    in    precedent,  who  recorded  what  the 


FINAL  TASKS  (18S0-1886)  499 

schools  had  or  had  not  regarded  as  obligatory,  forgetting  that 
the  data  of  many  problems  had  now  changed  and  the  weight 
of  evidence  accordingly  shifted.     It  was  active  thought  which 
he  desiderated    among  them — not  a  change  of  theological 
principles,  but  their  more  intelligent   application.     And  he 
regarded  specialists  as  the  only  trustworthy  witnesses  as  to 
where  modification  was  really  necessary  in  the  existing  teach- 
ing.   Yet  he  found  that  in  many  quarters  theology  was  mainly 
a  matter  of  memory,  with  little  accompaniment  of  candid 
thought.      He    deprecated    such    a    fashion,    among    other 
reasons,  because   it   alienated   the  acutest  minds  altogether 
from  theology — men  of  the  stamp  of  some  of  the  principal 
writers  in  the  old  Home  and  Foreign  Review.     Some  thinkers 
who  might  have  been  considerable  theologians  under  a  more 
tolerant  and  enlightened  regime  would  revolt  from  a  system 
of  red-tape.      They   would    become   free-lances    instead    of 
useful  soldiers.    They  would  break  loose  from  the  restraint  of 
ancient  tradition  and  the  caution  attaching  to  the   scientific 
method,  and  indulge  in  speculative  theories  prompted  by  the 
thought  of  the  day,  but  far  more  at  variance  with  the  traditions 
of  the  schools  than  the  real  necessities  of  the  case  demanded. 
A  thoroughly  able  theology,  on  the  whole  conservative,  yet 
taking  account  of  what  was  generally  acknowledged  among 
the  representatives  of  science,  would    be  a  great    power  to 
hold  such  speculation  in  check.     And  it  would    be  a  most 
valuable   weapon    in    the    hands   of  ecclesiastical   authority. 
Men  of  goodwill  would  be  ready  to  defer  to  it,  especially  if 
it  were  enforced  by  authority,  even  when  it  was  somewhat 
more    conservative  than  their  own  personal    views.      But    a 
theology  which  took  no  account  of  much  that  the  scientific 
experts   thought    to    be    highly   probable,    or   even    certain, 
must    cease    to  be    respected    by   those   who  were  alive  to 
the  situation.     And   many  would  react  against  it,  claiming 
complete    freedom  of  thought.     If  authority  enforced  with 
penalties  the  acceptance  of  a  very  limited  theological  out- 
look, he  greatly  feared,  among  some  of  the  ablest  specialists 
and  thinkers,  either  avowed  separation  from  the  Church  or 
some  insincerity  in  their  professions  of  allegiance. 

At  the  same  time,  while    deeply  anxious    for  the    free 
and    fair   discussion  that  was  required   in   order   to  form  a 

K  K  2 


500  LIFE   OF   CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

body  of  theoloofical  thought,  adequate  to  the  needs  of  the 
later  nineteenth  century  as  that  of  St.  Thomas  was  to  those 
of  the  thirteenth,  the  Cardinal  was  most  tender  and  scrupu- 
lous as  to  scandalising  weaker  brethren.  Some  theological 
treatises  might  have  to  be  as  new  in  form  as  were  those  of 
St.  Thomas  Aquinas  in  his  own  time  ;  but  minds  must  be 
gradually  prepared  for  them.  Startling  language  was  a 
crime  in  his  eyes.  What  he  deprecated  was  not  considera- 
tion for  the  less  reflective  and  more  simple  minds,  which  are 
heedless  of  modern  problems,  but  the  seeming  identification 
of  the  theology  and  learning  of  the  Church  with  the  limited 
horizon  of  such  minds — as  though  the  thoughts  of  Catholics 
were  to  be  practically  determined  by  those  who  knew  and 
saw  less,  in  opposition  to  those  who  knew  and  saw  more. 
In  general  he  held  the  true  policy  for  the  training  of  a  nine- 
teenth-century theologian  to  be  in  the  first  place  a  full 
study  of  the  ancient  masters,  with  a  view  to  forming  the 
Christian  mind  on  a  basis  largely  uniform  in  its  spirit,  yet 
taking  cognisance  of  varieties  of  mind  and  intellect  in  the 
past.  A  mind  so  formed  in  early  youth  would,  in  assi- 
milating the  results  of  the  special  studies  of  our  own  time, 
not  be  likely  to  drift  from  its  ancient  moorings  or  to  fall 
into  excesses  in  speculation.  He  hoped  that  the  greater 
tolerance  of  the  new  Pope  as  contrasted  with  Pius  IX. 
might  afford  an  opportunity  for  the  developments  which 
were  so  indispensably  necessary,  and  this  hope  cheered  his 
declining  years.  He  was  always  in  sentiment  on  the  con- 
servative side  in  theology,  feeling  the  great  religious  truths 
handed  down  by  Christian  tradition  to  be  by  far  the  most 
positively  important.  Yet  there  were  concessions  to  modern 
knowledge  which  were  simply  necessary,  however  little  the 
result  contributed  to  positive  religion.  This  necessity  was 
quite  clear  to  the  expert  few  ;  and  he  dreaded  the  action 
of  zealous  men  who  did  not  see  it,  or  regarded  those  who 
did  see  it  as  disloyal  to  the  Church.  He  welcomed  those 
decisions  of  authority  which  laid  stress  in  general  terms 
on  the  duty  of  adhering  to  traditionary  Christian  thought, 
but  he  also  welcomed  the  comparative  absence  in  the  early 
utterances  of  Leo  XIII.  of  specific  theological  pronounce- 
ments on  subjects  on  which  the  data  of  progressive  sciences 


FINAL  TASKS  (1880-1886)  501 

were  relevant,  and  at  the  same  time  were  not  yet  ascertained 
with  sufficient  precision  to  ensure  adequacy  or  even  perfect 
accuracy  of  statement.  He  never  forgot,  amid  all  his  exhor- 
tations on  behalf  of  obedience  to  authority,  that  theologians 
did  not  allow  infallibility  even  to  the  reasonings  on  which 
infallible  definitions  were  based  ;  while  many  authoritative 
decisions  laid  no  claim  at  all  to  infallibility.  Their  adequacy 
depended  on  the  conscientious  use,  by  those  in  power,  of  the 
scientific  means  supplied  by  Providence  for  elucidating  the 
grave  problems  before  them.  He  regarded  as  a  sign  of  the 
decay  of  theology  the  language  used  by  some  zealous  but 
loose  writers  in  respect  of  authoritative  decisions, — language 
which  seemed  to  imply  that  the  ecclesiastical  authorities  were 
directly  inspired,  and  that  therefore  careful  and  accurate 
theological  reasoning  was  needless  on  their  part  in  framing 
such  decisions.  Whether  they  were  wise  or  not,  they  had 
indeed  to  be  deferred  to  ;  but  this  did  not  make  it  less 
urgently  necessary  to  do  all  that  could  be  done  to  secure 
that  a  wise  course  should  be  taken  in  framing  them.  And 
as  a  Cardinal — one  of  the  Holy  Father's  official  advisers— 
this  matter  now  came  within  the  range  of  his  own  personal 
duties. 

His  general  feeling  as  to  the  necessity  of  basing  Christian 
thought  on  that  of  the  great  masters  in  theology,  is  shown  in 
the  draft  of  a  letter  written  to  Leo  XHI.  himself  in  the  early 
years  of  his  pontificate — whether  it  was  sent  I  cannot  say — 
welcoming  his  Encyclical  on  the  Philosophy  of  St.  Thomas 
Aquinas  on  the  ground  that  at  a  time  of  new  theories  it 
was  all-important  to  remember  the  great  thinkers  of  old. 

From  Cardinal  Newman  to  His  Holiness  Leo  XHI. 

'  I  hope  it  will  not  seem  to  your  Holiness  an  intrusion 
upon  your  time  if  I  address  to  you  a  few  lines  to  thank  you 
for  the  very  seasonable  and  important  encyclical  which  you 
bestowed  upon  us.  All  good  Catholics  must  feel  it  a  first 
necessity  that  the  intellectual  exercises,  without  which  the 
Church  cannot  fulfil  her  supernatural  mission  duly,  should  be 
founded  upon  broad  as  well  as  true  principles,  that  the  mental 
creations  of  her  theologians,  and  of  her  controversialists  and 
pastors  should  be  grafted  on  the  Catholic  tradition  of  philo- 
sophy, and  should  not  start  from  a  novel  and  simply  original 


5o:!  LIFE   OF   CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

tradition,  but  should  be  substantially  one  with  the  teachinGf 
of  St.  Athanasius,  St.  Augustine,  St.  Anselm,  and  St.  Thomas, 
as  those  great  doctors  in  turn  are  one  with  each  other. 

*  At  a  time  when  there  is  so  much  cultivation  of  mind,  so 
much  intellectual  excitement,  so  many  new  views,  true  and 
false,  and  so  much  temptation  to  overstep  the  old  truth,  we 
need  just  what  your  Holiness  has  supplied  us  with  in  your 
recent  pastoral,  and  I  hope  my  own  personal  gratitude  for 
your  wise  and  seasonable  act  may  be  taken  by  your  Holiness 
as  my  apology,  if  I  seem  to  outstep  the  limits  of  modesty  and 
propriety  in  addressing  this  letter  to  your  Holiness. 

'  Begging  the  Apostolical  Benediction,'  &c. 

It  is  interesting  to  note  that  it  was  this  Encyclical  which 
led  the  present  Cardinal  Mercier  to  establish  in  Louvain 
University  a  school  in  close  harmony  with  Cardinal 
Newman's  views — the  Institut  de  St.  Thomas — which  aimed 
at  that  combination  of  theology  with  the  science  of  the  day 
which  St.  Thomas  himself  achieved  under  the  very  different 
conditions  of  the  thirteenth  century. 

By  the  year  1884  the  prospect  of  going  in  person  to 
Rome  had  practically  passed  from  the  Cardinal's  mind. 
He  felt  that  he  must  do  what  he  could  at  home  to  promote 
the  interests  he  most  cared  for.  One  point  on  which,  as  we 
have  seen,  he  felt  that  the  teaching  in  the  Catholic  schools, 
at  that  time  generally  received,  needed  some  reconsideration, 
was  the  Inspiration  of  Scripture.  The  bearing  of  recent 
criticism  on  this  question  had  to  be  weighed.  Another  urgent 
matter  was  the  treatment  of  the  intellectual  grounds  for 
religious  belief  in  such  a  way  as  to  command  the  attention  of  a 
generation  in  which  agnosticism  was  an  increasing  tendency. 
He  wrote  in  the  Nineteenth  Century  \r\  1883  on  the  Inspiration 
of  Scripture,  as  being  a  burning  question  of  the  hour.  And 
on  the  second  question  circumstances  called  on  him  to  speak 
in  1885. 

On  the  '  Inspiration '  question  he  wrote  very  cautiously. 
He  did  enough  to  indicate  the  direction  in  which  reconsidera- 
tion was  desirable  and  possible.  He  pointed  out  that,  from 
the  very  fact  that  at  the  Councils  of  Trent  and  the  Vatican 
'  faith  and  morals  '  were  more  than  once  specified  as  the 
sphere  in  which  Holy  Scripture  teaches  the  truth,  there  was 


FINAL  TASKS  (1880-1886)  503 

evidently  some  sense  in  which  the  Church  regarded  Inspiration 
as  applying  to  matters  of  faith  and  morals  which  did  not 
equally  apply  to  matters  of  fact.  Yet  he  did  not  for  this 
reason  exclude  the  facts  of  Scripture  as  a  whole  from  the 
guarantee  of  Inspiration,  for  those  facts  were  the  story  of 
Divine  Providence  in  its  dealings  with  the  world  and  con- 
tained the  matter  for  Christian  Faith.  The  main  facts 
narrated  in  Holy  Writ  which  bear  on  Faith  were  guaranteed 
by  Inspiration.  But  the  guarantee  was  not  such  as  to  cover 
all  facts  narrated.^ 

'  The  most  significant  passage  in  the  Essay  runs  as  follows : 

'  And  now  comes  the  important  question,  in  what  respect  are  the  Canonical 
books  inspired  ?  It  cannot  be  in  every  respect,  unless  we  are  bound  de  fide  to 
believe  that  "terra  in  aeternum  stat,"  and  that  heaven  is  above  us,  and  that 
there  are  no  antipodes.  And  it  seems  unworthy  of  Divine  Greatness,  that  the 
Almighty  should,  in  His  revelation  of  Himself  to  us,  undertake  mere  secular 
duties,  and  assume  the  office  of  a  narrator,  as  such,  or  an  historian,  or 
geographer,  except  so  far  as  the  secular  matters  bear  directly  upon  the  revealed 
truth.  The  Councils  of  Trent  and  the  Vatican  fulfil  this  anticipation  ;  they 
tell  us  distinctly  the  object  and  the  promise  of  Scripture  inspiration.  They 
specify  "  faith  and  moral  conduct "  as  the  drift  of  that  teaching  which  has  the 
guarantee  of  inspiration.  What  we  need,  and  what  is  given  us,  is  not  how 
to  educate  ourselves  for  this  life  ;  we  have  abundant  natural  gifts  for  human 
society,  and  for  the  advantages  which  it  secures  ;  but  our  great  want  is  how 
to  demean  ourselves  in  thought  and  deed  towards  our  Maker,  and  how  to  gain 
reliable  information  on  this  urgent  necessity. 

'  Accordingly,  four  times  does  the  Tridentine  Council  insist  upon  "  faith  and 
morality"  as  the  scope  of  inspired  teaching.  It  declares  that  the  "  Gospel"  is 
"the  Fount  of  all  saving  truth  and  all  iiistntction  in  ;/iorais"  that  in  the 
written  books  and  in  the  unwritten  traditions,  the  Holy  Spirit  dictating,  this 
truth  and  instruction  are  contained.  Then  it  speaks  of  the  books  and  traditions, 
"  relating  whether  to  faith  or  to  morals  "  and  afterwards  of  "  the  confirmation  of 
dogmas  and  establishment  of  tnorals."  Lastly,  it  warns  the  Christian  people, 
"in  matters  of  faith  and  morals"  against  distorting  Scripture  into  a  sense  of 
their  own. 

'  In  like  manner  the  Vatican  Council  pronounces  that  Supernatural  Revelation 
consists  " /«  rebus  divinis,'"  and  is  contained  ^^m  libris  scriptis  et  sine  scripto 
traditionibus  "  ;  and  it  also  speaks  of  "  petulantia  ingenia  "  advancing  wrong 
interpretations  of  Scripture  "  in  xchws  fidei  et  moruin  ad  aedificationem  doctrinac 
Christianae  pertinentium." 

'  But  while  the  Councils,  as  has  been  shown,  lay  down  so  emphatically  the 
inspiration  of  Scripture  in  respect  to  "faith  and  morals,"  it  is  remarkable  that 
they  do  not  say  a  word  directly  as  to  its  inspiration  in  matters  of  fact.  Yet  are 
we  therefore  to  conclude  that  the  record  of  facts  in  Scripture  does  not  come 
under  the  guarantee  of  its  inspiration  ?  We  are  not  so  to  conclude,  and  for  this 
plain  reason  :— the  sacred  narrative,  carried  on  through  so  many  ages,  what  is 
it  but  the  very  matter  for  our  faith,  and  rule  of  our  obedience  ?  what  but  that 


504  LIFE   OF  CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

Newman's  want  of  complete  familiarity  with  the  usual 
phraseology  in  Catholic  text-books  made  it  possible  for  theo- 
logians to  attack  his  expressions  with  some  effect.  And  his 
article  is  for  this  reason  not  likely  ever  to  find  acceptance  in 
the  schools.  Yet  it  did  much  to  clear  the  issues  in  the  eyes 
of  thoughtful  men.  And  his  position  conceded  less  to  modern 
criticism  than  the  view  now  adopted  in  many  ecclesiastical 
seminaries.  But  in  place  of  admitting  occasional  '  error '  in 
matters  of  fact  or  obiter  dicta  (as  Newman  called  them), 
the  recognised  technical  phraseology  denies  all  'error'  to 
Scripture  '  rightly  interpreted.'  Under  the  head  of  interpre- 
tation certain  historical  and  scientific  statements  are  treated 
as  quotations,  explicit  or  implicit,  from  secular  historians  of 
the  time  for  the  truth  of  which  the  sacred  writer  does  not 
vouch.  '  Error '  is  not  owned  to  in  the  technical  sense, 
but  statements  often  characterised  in  popular  language  as 
'errors'  are  admitted  to  exist.' 

narrative  itself  is  the  supernatural  teaching,  in  order  to  which  inspiration  is 
given  ?  What  is  the  whole  history,  as  it  is  traced  out  in  Scripture  from  Genesis 
to  Esdras,  and  thence  on  to  the  end  of  the  Acts  of  the  Apostles,  what  is  it  but  a 
manifestation  of  Divine  Providence,  on  the  one  hand  interpretative  (on  a  large 
scale  and  with  analogical  applications)  of  universal  history,  and  on  the  other 
preparatory  (typical  and  predictive)  of  the  Evangelical  Dispensation?  Its  pages 
breathe  of  providence  and  grace,  of  our  Lord,  and  of  His  work  and  teaching, 
from  beginning  to  end.  It  views  facts  in  those  relations  in  which  neither 
ancients,  such  as  the  Greek  and  Latin  classical  historians,  nor  moderns,  such  as 
Niebuhr,  Grote,  Ewald,  or  Michelet,  can  view  them.  In  this  point  of  view  it 
has  God  for  its  Author,  even  though  the  finger  of  God  traced  no  words  but  the 
Decalogue.  Such  is  the  claim  of  Bible  history  in  its  substantial  fulness  to  be 
accepted  defide  as  true.  In  this  point  of  view.  Scripture  is  inspired,  not  only 
in  faith  and  morals  but  in  all  its  parts  which  bear  on  faith,  including  matters 
of  fact.' 

'  The  Cardinal  wrote  as  follows  to  Baron  von  Hiigel  in  connection  with  his 
Essay  : 

'  It  pleased  me  to  think  that  my  article  in  the  XlXth  Centwy  had  been 
acceptable  to  you.  Of  course  it  is  an  anxious  subject.  It  is  easy  to  begin  a 
controversy  and  difficult  to  end  it.  And  often  one  does  not  wish  to  say  what 
logically  one  is  obliged  to  say.  If,  indeed,  I  knew  exactly  where  to  draw  the 
line  in  such  questions,  I  should  not  have  had  the  anxiety  which  I  cannot  even 
now  get  rid  of.  .  .  .  It  has  been  a  relief  to  my  mind  to  find  what  I  have  written 
approved  of  by  those  whose  judgment  I  respect.  I  am  surprised  at  some  of 
the  statements  in  Scripture  which  you  consider  to  need  reconciliation,  but,  I 
suppose,  everyone  has  his  own  difficulties.  And  this  fact,  that  the  private 
judgment  of  one  man  comes  into  collision  with  the  judgment  of  another,  leads  one 
to  be  suspicious  of  one's  private  views  altogether.' 


FINAL  TASKS  (1880-1886)  505 

A  more  important  essay  was  written  by  Newman  a  little 
later  on  in  reply  to  Principal  F'airbairn,  the  Congregationalist 
minister.  Principal  Fairbairn,  writing  in  the  Co7itemporar}> 
Reviezv  in  May  1885,  attacked  Newman's  language  concern- 
ing the  human  reason  in  the  '  Apologia '  and  *  Grammar  of 
Assent '  as  sceptical.^  Dr.  Fairbairn  fell  into  the  usual  error 
of  supposing  that,  despairing  of  reason,  Newman  had  thrown 
himself  for  refuge  into  the  arms  of  an  infallible  Church. 

Dr.  Fairbairn,  like  some  of  Newman's  Catholic  critics  on 
the  inspiration  question,  derived  some  advantage  from  New- 
man's disdain  for  the  trammels  of  technical  phraseology.^ 
And  it  is,  I  think,  very  remarkable  that  when  nearly  eighty- 
five  years  old  Newman  stated  his  position  on  important  points 
with  a  new  precision.  The  attack  stimulated  his  thinking 
powers,  and  he  wrote  with  point  and  vigour. 

Newman's  object,  in  the  passages  censured  by  Dr. 
Fairbairn  as  sceptical,  had,  as  we  have  already  seen,  been 
absolute  fidelity  to  fact.  What  was  the  use  of  giving  an 
account  of  professedly  irrefragable  reasoning  on  behalf  of 
Theism  and  Christian  Faith  and  of  infallible  accuracy  in  the 
working  of  the  human  reason  itself  in  its  dealings  with 
religious  truth,  when  patent  facts  gave  such  an  account  the 
lie?  The  human  reason  did  as  a  fact,  where  it  was 
most  actively  exercised  on  fundamental  problems,  run  into 
infidelity.  He  had  expressly  denied  that  he  regarded  such  a 
use  of  the  reason  as  lawful.  But  it  was  a  fact  to  be  faced. 
And  he  had  in  the  '  Apologia '  treated  the  Church  not  as  a 

To  Falhcr  Ilevvil,  the  American  Paulisl,  he  writes  : 

'  I  have  been  made  very  anxious  on  the  subject  of  Inspiration.  On  a  parallel 
subject  there  is  a  remarkable  Article  in  the  Month.  It  is  apropos  of  Father 
Curci.  Both  arise  out  of  the  question  of  the  relation  of  Science  to  Dogma.  And 
that  is  the  question  of  the  day.  The  Holy  See  acts  always  with  gre.at  delibera- 
tion. If  it  is  not  moved  to  make  a  decision  on  certain  questions,  perhaps  by  its 
very  silence  it  may  decide  that  certain  questions  are  to  be  kept  open.' 

'  '  He  has  a  deep  distrust  of  the  intellect,'  writes  Dr.  Fairbairn  ;  '  he  dares  not 
trust  his  own,  for  he  does  not  know  where  it  might  lead  him,  and  he  will  not  trust 
any  other  man's.'  Of  the  Gramviar  of  Assent,  Dr.  Fairbairn  writes,  '  The  book 
is  pervaded  by  the  intensest  philosophical  scepticism.' — Contemporary  Review ^ 
May  1885,  p.  667. 

'^  This  was  partly  a  matter  of  principle.  Newman  held  that  the  thinkers  were 
constantly  the  victims  of  phraseology  both  in  philosophy  and  in  theology,  and 
that  technical  language,  so  valuable  in  the  interests  of  clearness,  was  ever  being 
perverted.  It  could  not,  like  algebraic  symbols,  be  left  to  work  automatically,  but 
must  be  constantly  tested  by  comparison  with  actual  thought. 


5o6  LIFE   OF  CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

refuge  from  scepticism,  hedged  off  from  the  untrustworthy 
reason,  but  as  a  standing  witness  to  spiritual  truth,  whose  in- 
fluence in  practice  purified  the  reason  and  restrained  it  from 
excesses  really  irrational. 

He  had  more  than  once,  in  tracing  the  sources  of  the  issue 
of  reason  in  belief  or  unbelief,  ascribed  that  issue  to  the 
different  first  principles  from  which  believers  and  unbelievers 
respectively  started.  Challenged  now  to  defend  his  position 
from  the  charge  of  scepticism,  he  made  it  clear  that  he  re- 
garded the  adoption  of  irreligious  principles  as  due  not  to 
the  intrinsic  faults  of  the  reasoning  faculty,  not  to  its  being 
in  its  own  nature  sceptical,  but  to  the  pressure  on  individual 
minds  of  the  generally  received  maxims  of  the  evil  world  in 
which  we  live. 

*  The  World,'  he  wrote,  '  is  that  vast  community  impreg- 
nated by  religious  error  which  mocks  and  rivals  the  Church 
by  claiming  to  be  its  own  witness,  and  to  be  infallible.  Such 
is  the  World,  the  False  Prophet  (as  I  called  it  fifty  years 
ago),  and  Reasoning  is  its  voice.  I  had  in  my  mind  such 
Apostolic  sayings  as  "  Love  not  the  World,  neither  the 
things  of  the  world,"  and  *'  A  friend  of  the  world  is  the 
enemy  of  God  "  ;  but  I  was  very  loth,  as  indeed  I  am  also 
now  on  the  present  occasion,  to  prcacJi.  Instead  then  of 
saying  "  the  World's  Reason,"  I  said  "  Reason  actually  and 
historically,"  "  Reason  in  fact  and  concretely  in  fallen  man," 
*'  Reason  in  the  educated  intellect  of  England,  France,  and 
Germany,"  Reason  in  "  every  Government  and  every  civiliza- 
tion through  the  world  which  is  under  the  influence  of  the 
European  mind,"  Reason  in  the  "  wild  living  intellect  of 
man,"  which  needs  (to  have)  "  its  stiff  neck  bent,"  that  ultra 
"  freedom  of  thought  which  is  in  itself  one  of  the  greatest  of 
our  natural  gifts,"  "  that  deep,  plausible  scepticism  "  which  is 
"  the  development  of  human  reason  as  practically  exercised 
by  the  natural  man."  .  .  . 

'  The  World  is  a  collection  of  individual  men,  and  any 
one  of  them  may  hold  and  take  on  himself  to  profess 
unchristian  doctrine,  and  do  his  best  to  propagate  it  ;  but  few 
have  the  power  for  such  a  work,  or  the  opportunity.  It  is  by 
their  union  into  one  body,  by  the  intercourse  of  man  with 
man  and  the  sympathy  thence  arising,  that  error  spreads 
and  becomes  an  authority.  Its  separate  units  which  make 
up  the  body  rely  upon  each  other,  and  upon  the  whole,  for 
the  truth  of  their  assertions  ;  and  thus  assumptions  and  false 


FINAL   TASKS  (1880-1 886)  507 

reasonings  are  received  without  question  as  certain  truths, 
on  the  credit  of  alternate  appeals  and  mutual  cheers  and 
imprimaturs! 

The  Church,  as  the  society  which  constantly  aims  at  stem- 
ming the  tide  of  human  corruption,  is  also  the  purifier  of 
the  human  reason  from  corrupting  influences,  and  not  a 
refuge  from  it  on  the  ground  that  it  is  intrinsically  sceptical. 
The  maxims  of  the  irreligious  world  lead  men  to  the  gradual 
denial  of  all  revealed  truth  ;  the  Christian  maxims  preserved 
by  the  Church  keep  it  unalloyed.  His  article  was  entitled 
'  The  Development  of  Religious  Error.' 

Newman's  article  appeared  in  the  Contemporary  Review 
of  October  1885,  and  in  December  Dr.  Fairbairn  again 
rejoined,  taxing  Newman  more  explicitly  than  before  with 
a  sceptical  view  of  the  reasoning  faculty,  which  Newman 
appeared  to  his  critic  to  treat  as  being  at  the  mercy  of 
arbitrary  assumptions.^  Newman  wrote  a  further  reply,  in 
which  he  made  it  clear  that  he  had  not  used  the  word  '  Reason' 
in  Hamilton's  sense  as  the  '  locus  principiorum,'  or  faculty  of 
intuition.  Just  the  contrary.  It  was  with  him  the  dialectical 
faculty.  But  he  no  longer  spoke  of  true  first  principles  as 
merely 'assumptions,'  but  as,  in  many  cases,  intuitions  of 
the  vovs}     The  world  corrupted  the  action  of  the  reason  by 

'  'In  the  province  of  religion,'  Newman  had  written  in  his  original  rejjly  to 
Dr.  Fairbairn,  '  if  [that  faculty]  be  under  the  happy  guidance  of  the  moral  sense, 
and  with  teachings  which  are  not  only  assumptions  in  form  but  certainties  in  fact, 
it  will  arrive  at  indisputable  truth,  and  then  the  house  is  .it  peace  ;  but  if  it  be  in 
the  hands  of  enemies,  who  are  under  the  delusion  that  their  arbitrary  assumptions 
are  self-evident  axioms,  the  reasoning  will  start  from  false  premisses,  and  the  mind 
will  be  in  a  state  of  melancholy  disorder.  But  in  no  case  need  the  reasoning 
faculty  itself  be  to  blame  or  responsible,  except  when  identified  with  the  assump- 
tions of  which  it  is  the  instrument.  I  repeat,  it  is  but  an  instrument ;  as  such  I 
have  viewed  it,  and  no  one  but  Dr.  Fairbairn  would  say  as  he  does — that  the  bad 
employment  of  a  faculty  was  a  "division,"  a  "contradiction,"  and  "  a  radical 
antagonism  of  nature,"  and  "  the  death  of  the  natural  proof"  of  a  God.  The  eyes, 
and  the  hands,  and  the  tongue,  are  instruments  in  their  very  nature.  We  may 
speak  of  a  wanton  eye,  and  a  murderous  hand,  and  a  blaspheming  tongue,  without 
denying  that  they  can  be  used  for  good  purposes  as  well  as  for  bad.'  Dr.  Fair- 
bairn's  comment  is  that  '  reason  to  him  [Newman]  had  so  little  in  it  of  the  truth 
that  it  was  as  ready  to  become  the  instrument  of  the  false  prophet  as  of  the  true." 
— Contemporary  Kcvitw,  December  18S5,  p.  850. 

-  'Great  faculty  as  reasoning  certainly  is,'  Newman  wrote  in  his  further  reply, 
•it  is  from  its  very  nature  in  all  suljects  dependent  upon  other  faculties.  It 
receives  from  them  the  antecedent  with  which  its  action  starts ;  and  when  this 


5oS  LIFE   OF  CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

instilling  false  assumptions  at  variance  with  the  informations 
of  our  higher  faculties.  This  reply  he  proposed  to  publish 
in  the  Contetnporary  Revieiv  for  March.  He  then  hesitated. 
Old  though  he  was,  he  had  not  lost  the  statesman's  habit  of 
forecasting  the  probable  effect  on  the  various  classes  of  his 
readers,  of  what  he  thought  of  publishing.  He  took  advice  on 
the  subject  of  publishing  the  article,  as  he  had  done  before 
writing  the  '  Apologia,'  though  the  present  controversy  was  in 
so  far  smaller  an  arena  and  before  a  very  limited  audience. 
And  two  of  the  men  who  had  loyally  helped  him  in  1864 
did  so  again  now — Lord  Blachford  and  Mr.  R.  H.  Hutton. 
Would  further  publication  in  reply  to  a  young  professor's 
strictures  be  for  one  of  the  Cardinal's  age  and  position 
undignified  ?  At  all  events  would  not  a  fresh  article  in 
the  pages  of  the  Review  be  undignified  ?  Yet  he  had  to 
think  of  Catholic  readers,  who  looked  for  an  answer  from 
him  to  Dr.  Fairbairn's  charge  of  scepticism.  That  charge 
had  also  been  made  against  portions  of  the  '  Apologia ' 
by  Catholic  writers  of  the  scholastic  type.  Was  it  not 
therefore  quite  essential  for  him  to  reply  to  it?  How 
would  it  do  to  leave  it  to  his  executors  to  publish  if  they 
desired  a  reprint  of  his  October  article,  with  notes  appended 
in  reply  to  Fairbairn's  renewed  assault  of  December? 

On  the  other  hand,  Dr.  William  Barry,  already  a  Catholic 
theological  professor  of  eminence,  who  had  previously  criti- 
cised some  of  Newman's  writing,  had  now  written  enthusias- 
tically in  his  defence  in  the  Contemporary  Review  itself. 
Would  that  perhaps  preclude  the  necessity  of  his  defending 
himself  in  the  Contemporary  Revieiv  for  the  sake  of  Catholic 
readers  ?  Perhaps  he  ought  still  to  speak  for  their  sake, 
himself,  and  publish  forthwith  the  notes  appended  to  his 
original  article.  These  questions  are  all  put  in  the  follow- 
ing letters  to  Lord  Blachford,  written  in  the  month  in 
which  he  completed  his  eighty- fifth  year  : 

antecedent  is  true,  there  is  no  longer  in  religious  matters  room  for  any  accusation 
against  it  of  scepticism.  In  such  matters  the  independent  faculty  which  is  mainly 
necessary  for  its  healthy  working  and  the  ultimate  warrant  of  the  reasoning  act,  I 
have  hitherto  spoken  of  as  the  moral  sense  ;  but,  as  I  have  already  said,  it  has  a 
wider  subject-matter  than  religion,  and  a  larger  name  than  moral  sense,  as 
including  intuitions,  and  this  is  what  Aristotle  calls  vovsJ' 


FINAL  TASKS  (1880-1886)  509 

*  The  Oratory,  Birmingham  :  February  4th,  1886. 

'  My  dear  Blachford, — I  begin  with  hoping  that  you  will 
let  me  dictate  a  letter  which  I  call  Private.  I  think  you  can 
advise  me. 

'  In  the  May  and  December  numbers  of  the  Contemporary 
Dr.  Fairbairn  has  two  severe  articles  to  the  effect  that  I  be- 
came a  Catholic  as  a  refuge  from  scepticism.  In  October 
I  published  an  answer  to  the  May  Article  in  the  same 
Review,  and  my  question  is  shall  I  also  answer  his  second 
(December)  Article. 

*  I  have  written  an  answer  and  it  is  ready  for  the  press 
with  the  purpose  of  appearing  in  the  Contemporary  next 
month  (March). 

'  At  the  last  moment  I  soliloquise  as  follows, — "  You  are 
acting  unworthily  of  your  age  and  your  station.  You  have 
made  your  protest  in  October  ;  that  is  enough.  If  you 
write  again  you  will  be  entering  into  controversy.  You 
yourself  know  better  than  any  man  else  that  your  submission 
to  Rome  was  not  made  at  all  as  a  remedy  against  a  personal, 
nay,  or  against  a  controversial  scepticism.  It  is  only  a 
matter  of  time  for  this  to  come  out  clear  to  all  men." 

'  I  feel  this  deeply,  it  would  require  a  very  brilliant 
knock  down  answer  to  Dr.  F.  to  justify  my  giving  up  my 
place  "  as  an  emeritus  miles "  and  going  down  into  the 
arena  with  a  younger  man.  The  only  shade  of  reason  for 
my  publishing  it  is  that  I  wished  to  say  in  print  that  in 
past  years  I  had  spoken  too  strongly  once  or  twice  against 
the  argument  from  final  causes. 

*  I  would  send  you  the  Article  (which  I  have  printed 
for  my  own  purpose)  ;  it  makes  about  seven  pages  of  the 
Contemporary,  if  you  wish  to  see  it.  There  is  nothing  in  it 
of  doctrine.  Only  every  day  is  valuable  if  it  is  to  come  out 
in  March. 

'  Yours  affectionately, 

J.  H.  Card.  Newman.' 

'The  Oratory,  Birmingham  :  February  6,  1SS6. 

'  My  dear  Blachford, — Your  prompt  answer  has  just  come. 
I  don't  forget  your  eyes  or  that  you  may  have  to  trouble 
Lady  Blachford. 

'  Principal  Fairbairn  is  a  great  man  among  the  Congrega- 
tionalists  and  is  said  to  be  the  prospective  head  of  their  new 
College  at  Oxford.  At  the  beginning  of  my  first  (October) 
article  I  said  the  reason  of  my  answering  him  was  for 
the  sake  of  my  friends,  who  would  wish  to  know  how 
I  viewed  his  criticisms.     Catholics  are  very  sensitive  about 


5IO  LIFE   OF   CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

giving  scandal,  and  what  I  wrote  was  not  a  refutation  of 
him,  but  an  explanation  in  addition  to  what  I  published 
years  ago  in  the  "  Apologia."  His  line  of  argument  was 
that  I  did  not  know  myself,  but  that  he,  as  a  by-standcr, 
knew  me  better.  This  assumption  I  did  not  notice,  but 
employed  myself  in  filling  up  the  lacunse  as  I  called  them 
of  what  I  had  already  written.  Hence  I  entitled  the  paper 
"The  Development  of  Religious  Error"  in  illustration  of  the 
latter  part,  the  6th,  of  the  "  Apologia."  I  aimed  at  showing 
as  an  instance  that  to  relinquish  the  doctrine  of  future 
punishment  was  to  unravel  the  web  of  Revelation. 

'  This  involved  my  notion  of  the  word  Reason  and  gave 
rise  in  his  second  (December)  Article  to  his  arguing  that 
my  definition  of  Reason  was  utterly  sceptical  as  disconnect- 
ing Reason  with  Truth.  To  refute  this  charge  about  my 
sense  of  Reason  is  the  main  subject  of  my  second  Article 
which  I  am  now  sending  to  you. 

'  I  should  add  that  in  a  Postscript  to  my  first  Article 
I  made  fun  of  Dr.  Fairbairn  saying  that  my  view  of  Reason 
was  "  impious." 

'  I  am  afraid  I  do  not  retire  from  what  I  said  about  final 
causes  so  much  as  I  led  you  to  think. 

'  I  have  omitted  to  say  that  if  I  did  not  insert  the  Article 
in  slips  which  I  send  you  I  should  leave  it  for  my  Executors 
to  do  what  they  will  with  it.  This  is  an  additional  reason 
for  feeling  indifferent  about  its  being  published  now.  I  say 
this  to  show  what  reason  I  have  to  be  indifferent  whether 
it  appears  in  the  Contemporary  or  not. 

'  Yours  affectionately, 

John  H.  Card.  Newman.' 

Lord  Blachford's  judgment,  on  reading  the  proposed 
article,  was  distinctly  against  Newman's  replying  in  the 
Contemporary.  Newman  wrote  on  February  9  entirely 
concurring : 

'  Many  thanks  for  your  pains  and  promptness.  I  go  by 
your  judgment  absolutely,  and  I  agree  with  it.  Also  I  fully 
feel  this,  viz.  that  Dr.  Fairbairn's  Article  is  simply  puzzle- 
headed,  that  it  does  not  require  answering. 

'  The  only  point  I  feel  is  the  chance  of  scandals,  i.e. 
putting  myself  out  of  line  with  Catholic  thought.  A  very 
clever  and  learned  theologian  has  just  been  defending  me 
with  great  eulogy  in  the  Contemporary  against  Dr.  Fairbairn, 
acknowledging  at  the  same  time  that  I  sometimes  say 
startling   things.     It    is    not    very    long   since  he   wrote  an 


FINAL  TASKS  (1880-1886)  511 

unfavourable  critique  upon  something  I  said,  and  from  his 
reputation  I  think  he  will  do  me  a  great  deal  of  good. 

*  His  writing  a  panegyric  on  me  in  the  Contemporary 
removes  any  necessity  of  my  ansivering  Dr.  Fairbairn  in  that 
publication,  but  the  question  of  pleasing  Catholics  remains. 

* .  .  .  My  question  is  whether  your  judgment  and  my 
judgment  against  an  article  will  lie  against  Notes  embodying 
[the  article]  as  appendages  to  the  pamphlet  which  was  to  be 
and  is  to  be  issued.' 

This  last  suggestion  was  in  the  event  acted  on.  The 
pamphlet  was,  however,  not  actually  published,  but  printed 
for  private  circulation. 

Meanwhile  the  loyal  thoughtfulness  of  Mr.  R.  H.  Hutton 
prompted  him  to  reply  to  Dr.  Fairbairn  in  the  pages  of  the 
Contemporary,  and  his  reply  coming  as  a  supplement  to  that 
already  published  by  Dr.  Barry  made  any  further  words  on 
Newman's  own  part  doubly  unnecessary. 


CHAPTER  XXXV 

LAST   YEARS   (1881-1890) 

Father  Neville  has  left  some  touching  though  fragmentary 
recollections  of  the  Cardinal's  life  during  his  last  years.  He 
prefixes  to  them  the  following  words  giving  the  general 
impression  left  by  the  Cardinal's  demeanour  and  conversation 
on  those  who  lived  with  him— words  spoken  in  a  sermon  by 
John  Henry  Newman  in  1828  at  the  funeral  of  his  friend  the 
Rev.  Walter  Mayer,  but  '  applying,'  says  Father  Neville, 
*  exactly  to  the  Cardinal  himself '  : 

'  His  was  a  life  of  prayer.  The  works  and  ways  of  God, 
the  mercies  of  Christ,  the  real  purpose  and  uses  of  this  life, 
the  unseen  things  of  the  spiritual  world,  were  always  upper- 
most in  his  mind.  His  speech  and  conversation  showed  it. 
...  It  pleased  God  to  show  to  all  around  him  the  state  of 
his  heart  and  spirit,  not  only  by  the  graces  of  a  meek  and 
peaceable  and  blameless  conversation  (which  is  of  course 
displayed  by  all  good  Christians),  but  also  by  the  direct 
religiousness  of  his  conversation.  Not  that  he  ever  spoke  for 
the  sake  of  display — he  was  quite  unaffected,  and  showed  his 
deep  religion  quite  naturally.' 

But  the  Cardinal's  profound  religiousness  did  not  pre- 
vent a  most  lively  interest  in  literary  and  political  events. 
In  the  bleak  winter  of  1881  he  writes  to  Mr.  Bedford  : 

'  The  late  severe  weather  did  me  no  harm.  I  had  one 
or  two  brief  colds,  but  they  were  such  as  might  have  been 
in  the  mildest  winter.  I  never  had  the  thought  come  upon 
me,  "What  an  unusual  winter  is  this!" — I  mean  from 
the  cold. 

'  I  have  felt  the  political  atmosphere  far  more  trying. 
I  wish  with  all  my  heart  that  the  cruel  injustices  which 
have  been  inflicted  on  the  Irish  people,  should   be  utterly 


CARDINAL     NEWMAN. 
From  a  riwtograpk  by  l-'atlicr  Anthony  Pollen  (1889). 


LAST   YEARS    (1881-1890)  513 

removed — but  I  don't  think  they  go  the  best  way  to  bring 
this  about' 

He  dreaded  (as  we  have  seen)  the  growth  of  democracy, 
and  consistently  held  that  the  Bill  of  1832  was  an  irreparable 
evil — '  It  opened  a  door  which  can  never  again  be  shut,'  he 
said.  At  the  time  of  Gladstone's  renewed  activity  in  1885 
he  writes  to  Dean  Church  : 

'  What  a  dreadful  thing  this  democracy  is  !  How  I  wish 
Gladstone  had  retired  into  private  life,  as  he  seems  to  have 
contemplated  some  10  years  ago.' 

In  the  same  year  he  read  the  manuscript  of  Dean 
Church's  'Oxford  Movement'  "'Charles  Marriott"  and 
"  Hampden"  are  first  rate  each  in  its  own  way,'  he  writes  to 
its  author,  '  All  are  good,  and  done  as  no  one  else  could  do 
them.'  And  again  :  '  I  think  you  have  succeeded  wonderfully 
in  your  account  of  R.  H.  Froude,  and  marvel  how  without 
knowing  him  you  could  be  so  correct'  He  greatly  admired 
the  volume  of  Dr.  James  Mozley's  letters  which  appeared  in 
the  early  eighties,  edited  by  Miss  Anne  Mozley,  but  the 
'Reminiscences'  of  Mr.  Thomas  Mozley,  published  in  1882, 
were  criticised  by  him  as  seriously  inaccurate.  '  If  a  story 
cannot  stand  on  two  legs,'  he  remarked,  '  Tom  supplies  a 
third.' 

Father  Neville,  who  had  been  with  him  in  Dublin  at 
the  time  of  the  Crimean  war,  was  reminded  once  again  of 
Newman's  rapt  attention  to  all  its  details,  by  his  similar 
interest,  during  the  years  1884  and  1885,  i'l  the  war  in 
Egypt  and  the  Soudan. 

'  In  1854,'  Father  Neville  writes, '  while  still  in  middle  life, 
and  when,  after  about  forty  years  of  peace,  war  was  new  to 
the  country.  Dr.  Newman  followed  in  detail  the  anxieties  and 
successes  of  the  Crimean  War  with  great  interest  and  deep 
feeling.  He  watched  Lord  Raglan  almost  as  a  personal 
friend,  from  respect  for  him,  and  from  sympathy  with  the 
difficulties  of  his  position.  Day  by  day,  with  the  newspaper  in 
his  hand,  he  would  give  as  in  precis  to  those  about  him,  a 
most  vivid  picture  of  what  had  gone  on,  and  the  sufferings  of 
the  soldiers,  which  he  described,  seemed  to  be  as  pain  to  him- 
self When  the  great  chartered  ship.  The  Prince,  with  its  half- 
million  worth,  as  was  said,  of  gifts  of  good  things,  was  lost  in 
VOL.  II.  L  L 


514  LIFE   OF  CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

a  storm  the  night  it  arrived  off  Balaclava,  he  most  completely 
broke  down  in  tears  of  sorrow  for  the  disappointment  to 
those  for  whom  such  a  cargo  as  that  had  been  sent. 

*  And  such  as  had  been  his  interest  in  the  Crimean 
War,  proportionately  so  was  it,  in  his  last  years,  with  the 
Egyptian.  The  expedition  for  the  relief  of  General  Gordon 
had  all  his  best  hopes,  and  his  full  appreciation  of  its 
adventurous  gallantry.  When  it  became  lost  to  sight  in 
the  desert,  he  received  the  news  of  this  as  of  a  very  solemn 
occurrence.  And  the  sacrifice  of  Gordon,  for  such  he  judged 
and  termed  the  General's  fate,  had  the  same  effect  upon 
his  bearing  as  a  personal  loss.  He  felt  it  as  an  almost  un- 
paralleled disgrace  to  the  country.  The  cause  and  source  of 
it,  so  far  as  he  could  comprehend  it,  and  spoke  of  it,  is  a  sub- 
ject which,  at  this  date,  it  would  be  almost  churlish  to  enter 
upon.  But  to  the  Cardinal  it  was  a  subject  of  very  solemn 
reflection,  of  which  he  hardly  could  speak,  and  his  strong 
feeling  about  it  never  really  died  in  him.  All  through  the 
war  he  kept  three  maps  of  the  country  hung  up  before 
him  that  he  might  follow  the  route,  and  he  would  not  after- 
wards have  them  removed  ;  two  remain  to  this  day ' 

'  Though  I  know  no  one  in  the  Soudan,  and  scarcely  any 
of  their  relatives,'  the  Cardinal  himself  writes  to  Mrs.  Deane 
in  February  1885, 'I  am  in  real  distress  at  the  thought  of 
what  those  relatives  are  suffering.  Neither  the  Crimea  nor 
the  Indian  Mutiny  has  come  home  to  me,  I  don't  know  why, 
as  this  has.  Perhaps  it  is  because  the  misfortune  is  .so 
wanton,  and  on  that  ground  makes  one  so  indignant.  Five 
successful  engagements,  won  at  a  cruel  price,  but  all  for 
nothing.' 

Having  been  thus  profoundly  moved  by  the  Gordon  tra- 
gedy as  an  onlooker  and  an  outsider,  it  may  be  imagined  that 
he  learnt  with  a  quite  special  feeling  that,  though  they  were 
strangers  to  one  another,  Gordon  had  interchanged  thoughts 
with  him  on  the  most  solemn  of  .subjects.  General  Gordon, 
it  transpired,  had  with  him  at  Khartoum  a  copy  of  '  The 
Dream  of  Gerontius,'  in  which  he  had  marked  his  favourite 
passages  in  pencil  and  underlined  the  name  '  Gordon '  in  the 
dedication  to  the  memory  of  Father  Joseph.  The  book  was 
given  by  the  General  to  Mr.  Power,  who  sent  it  to  a  relative 
in  Ireland,  who  in  turn  offered  it  for  the  Cardinal's  inspection. 
*  It  is  indeed,'  Newman  wrote  in  his  letter  of  thanks  for  the 


LAST   YEARS   (i  881-1890)  515 

volume,  '  far  more  than  a  mere  compliment  to  have  my 
name  associated  in  the  mind  of  the  public  with  such  a  man — 
so  revered,  so  keenly  and  bitterly  mourned  for  as  General 
Gordon.' 

To  Dean  Church  he  writes  as  follows  of  the  episode  on 
April  7  : 

'  I  have  received  a  little  book  which  has  taken  my  breath 
away.  It  is  the  property  of  Mrs.  Murphy,  who  received  it 
from  Mr.  F.  Power,  her  brother,  and  was  given  to  him  by 
Gordon  at  Khartoum.  So  Mr.  Power  writes  in  the  first  page  ; 
and  attests  that  the  pencil  marks,  thro'  the  book,  are  Gordon's. 
The  book  is  the  "  Dream  of  Gerontius." ' 

The  Cardinal  could  not  but  feel  that  the  love  of  his  book 
on  the  part  of  the  heroic  soldier  meant  that  he  had  his  own 
death  continually  in  view.  '  What  struck  me  so  much  in  his 
use  of  the  "  Dream,"  '  Newman  writes  to  another  friend,  '  was 
that  in  St.  Paul's  words  he  "died  daily"  ;  he  was  always  on 
his  deathbed,  fulfilling  the  common  advice  that  we  should 
ever  pass  the  day  as  if  it  were  our  last.' 

Of  the  Cardinal's  habits  as  to  giving  in  charity  Father 
Neville  writes  : 

'  He  did  not  like,  indeed,  he  shunned,  the  ordinary  wayside 
beggar  ;  but  poor  people  whom  he  knew,  or  were  specially 
recommended  to  him,  had  the  advantage  sometimes  of  a 
large  gift  from  him,  rather  than  alms— an  unpretending- 
looking  little  box  would  be  put  into  the  hand,  and  it  would 
am.use  him  as  he  went  home  to  think  of  the  surprise  when 
the  contents  came  to  be  seen — he  was  sure  the  poor  people 
would  be  glad  to  pay  off  at  the  shop  that  they  might  begin 
to  get  credit  again.  Such  a  box  might  have  five  pounds,  even 
more. 

'  He  was  very  particular  that  anything  given  in  his  name, 
after  he  was  Cardinal,  should  be  done  without  stint.  But 
this  was  not  the  way  with  him  simply  as  Cardinal,  for  he 
never  liked  half-measures  in  what  it  concerned  him  to  do. 
But  with  regard  to  money,  there  had  been  times  after  his 
conversion  when  at  best  he  could  not  do  more  than  take 
half-measures,  nor  as  much.' 

The  Cardinal  would  not  give  up  personal  correspondence 
with  his  friends  until  writing  became  quite  impossible  to 
him.  In  letter  after  letter  he  complains  of  the  fatigue  of 
using  his  hand,  and  when   I   myself  saw  him  write  only  his 

L  L  2 


5i6  LIFE   OF   CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

name  and  the  date  for  an  autograph  book  in  1885,  it  was 
a  process  which  lasted  several  minutes.  A  single  letter 
must  have  taken  him  hours  at  that  time— though  the  failure 
had  of  course  been  very  gradual.  I  subjoin  a  few  letters 
of  the  last  ten  years  of  his  life,  taken  almost  at  random, 
yet  each  from  some  point  of  view  characteristic. 

To  his  old  Oxford  friend  Canon  McMullen,  the  Rector 
of  St.  Mary's,  Chelsea,  who  had  in  1881  almost  completely 
lost  his  eyesight  and  was  retiring  from  active  work,  he  wrote 
thus  : 

'  The  Oratory,  Birmingham  :  Feb.  24,  1881. 

*  My  dear  McMullen, — I  saw  your  letter  to  your  Parish- 
ioners the  other  day,  and  that  leads  me  to  write  you  a  few 
lines  to  express  my  sympathy  with  you  and  my  kindest 
wishes. 

'  I  know  the  new  life  of  calm  and  peace,  which  God 
is  giving  you,  will  be  united  with  trial  and  suffering  ;  but 
I  know,  too,  that,  out  of  His  abundant  grace,  He  will  in 
some  way  or  other  make  up  to  you  for  such  burden  as 
He  lays  upon  you, 

'  However,  why  I  write  this  is  to  say  to  you  that  I  have 
begun  to  say  a  Mass  weekly  for  you  between  this  and 
Easter,  and  that  I  propose  to  do  so,  not  only  from  my 
true  attachment  to  you,  but  especially  in  deep  gratitude 
for  the  fidelity  with  which  you  have  so  long  and  so  un- 
swervingly taken  my  part,  through  years  in  which  I  have 
had  much  to  try  me  from  adverse  tongues. 

'  That  you  may  be  bountifully,  royally  recompensed  by 
our  Great  Master,  for  all  your  good  deeds,  is  the  constant 
prayer  of 

'  Yours  affectionately, 

John  Henry  Cardinal  Newman.' 

In  this  same  year  he  sat  for  his  picture  to  Millais,  on 
the  occasion  of  a  visit  to  London.  He  writes  as  follows  to 
Sister  Maria  Pia,  from  Rednal,  on  July  21  : 

'  Mr.  Millais  thinks  his  portrait  the  best  he  has  done 
and  the  one  he  wishes  to  go  down  to  posterity  by.  Every 
one  who  has  seen  it  is  struck  with  it.  He  did  it  in  a  few 
short  sittings. 

'  We  have  been  shocked  by  the  almost  sudden  death 
of  Dean  Stanley.  He  had  some  illness  or  other,  which 
turned  to  erysipelas  ;  and  he  was  carried  off  almost  as  soon 


LAST  YEx\RS    (i  881-1890)  517 

as  he  was  in  danger.  He  was  about  65,  showing  that  old 
men  may  be  quite  well  to  all  appearance,  yet  may  be  gone 
in  a  few  days.  .  .  . 

'  I  went  to  London  and  to  the  Oratory,  then  [to]  the 
Cardinal's/  and  was  received  with  great  attention.' 

The  following  two  letters  to  his  nephew,  Mr,  J.  R.  Mozley, 
give  the  Cardinal's  feeling  in  his  last  years  on  the  relations 
between  Ireland  and  Encrland  : 


•i=>' 


'Birmingham:  Oct.  20,  188 1. 

'  I  am  anything  but  a  politician,  whether  in  grasp  of 
principles  or  knowledge  of  facts.  As  to  Ireland,  judging  by 
what  I  saw  in  Ireland  20  years  ago,  the  question  between  the 
countries  is  not  one  of  land  or  property,  but  of  union. 

'  Cromwell,  and  others  have,  by  their  conduct  to  the  Irish, 
burned  into  the  national  heart  a  deep  hatred  of  England,  and, 
if  the  population  perseveres,  the  sentiment  of  patriotism  and 
the  latent  sense  of  historical  wrongs  will  hinder  even  the 
more  rational,  and  calm  judging,  the  most  friendly  to  England, 
from  separating  themselves  from  their  countrymen.  They 
are  abundantly  warmhearted  and  friendly  to  individual 
Englishmen,  of  that  I  have  clear  experience  in  my  own  case, 
but  what  I  believe,  though  I  have  no  large  experience  to 
appeal  to,  is,  that  there  is  not  one  Anglophilist  in  the  nation. 

'  Observe,  Gladstone  the  other  day  at  Leeds  complained 
of  the  little  support  given  him  by  the  middle  class  and 
gentry  in  Ireland.  I  think  it  was  at  the  time  oi  the  Fenian 
rising  that  the  Times  had  an  article  to  the  same  effect. 
Gladstone  seemed  to  think  them  cowards :  no,  they  are 
patriots. 

'  I  knew,  when  in  Ireland,  one  of  the  leaders  of  the 
Smith  O'Brien  movement  in  i  S48  ;  his  boast  was,  that  from 
Henry  11. 's  time  the  people  had  never  condoned  the  English 
occupation.  They  had  by  a  succession  of  risings,  from  then 
till  now,  protested  against  it. 

'  Our  rule  has  been  marked  by  a  persistent  forcing  on 
them  English  ways.  Such,  I  suppose,  was  our  law  of  pro- 
perty, founded  on  the  feudal  system,  instead  of  their  own 
communism. 

'  About  this  I  know  very  little.  What  I  do  know  is 
the  stupid  forcing  on  their  Catholicism  our  godless  edu- 
cation. Since  1845  all  English  parties  have  been  resolved 
that  primary  education  and  University  education  in  Ireland 
should  be  without  religion,  except  that  .  .  .  the  Bible  without 


Cardinal  Manning's. 


5i8  LIFE   OF  CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

comment  should  be  allowed  in  the  primary.  .  .  .  But  to 
conclude,  I  can  but  say,  we  are  suffering  partly  from  "  delicta 
majorum,"  partly  from  our  own.  Is  it  too  late,  for  one  thing, 
to  give  Ireland  a  Catholic  University  ? 

'  Recollect  Belgium,  Greece,  Hungary,  Bulgaria,  Lombardy, 
all  have  got  free  in  my  lifetime.' 

'  Birmingham  :  October  24. 

•  I  am  no  politician.  I  have  long  thought  that  the  Irish 
would  gain  Home  Rule  in  some  shape,  and  that  both  because 
of  the  issue  of  the  series  of  past  conflicts  with  Great  Britain, 
which  seems  to  portend  it,  and  because  of  Greece,  Belgium, 
Lombardy,  Hungary  and  Bulgaria.  But  I  am  no  advocate 
for  such  issue,  rather  it  seems  to  me  a  blow  on  the  power  of 
England  as  serious  as  it  is  retributive. 

'  As  to  the  University  question,  it  opens  a  question  larger 
than  itself.  Why  has  not  England  acted  towards  Ireland  as 
it  has  treated  Scotland  ?  Scotland  had  its  own  religion,  and 
after  a  short  time  the  attempt  to  impose  Episcopacy  on  it  was 
given  up,  and  so  indulgent  has  been  England  to  Scotland, 
that  even  the  Queen,  the  head  of  the  Anglican  Church,  goes 
to  kirk  and  listens  to  Presbyterian  preachers.  On  the  contrary, 
not  only  great  sums  have  been  poured  through  centuries 
into  Ireland  from  England  by  the  State  and  by  the  people, 
to  force  Protestantism  on  the  Irish,  but  there  were  persecut- 
ing laws,  of  which  I  say  nothing,  because  the  question  you 
have  asked  is  one  of  property.  The  Irish  people  consider 
the  sums  which  the  Anglo-Irish  Establishment  took  year  by 
year  from  the  Irish  population,  as  the  property  of  their  own 
Church,  which  Church  was  proscribed  by  English  law.  In 
asking  back  a  small  portion  of  these  confiscations  (I  think 
one  or  two  of  the  Anglican  Irish  Archbishops  in  my  day  left 
behind  them  towards  ;^50o,ooo  apiece,  on  their  death)  they 
have  not  acted  unreasonably.  The  sums  given  for  Protestant 
education  were  as  prodigious  as  those  for  religion. 

'  Now  what  was  done  as  regards  the  University  ?  First 
Peel  set  up  his  godless  colleges,  aided  by  public  yearly 
grants,  I  am  almost  sure,  or  quite  sure  :  then  our  Bishops 
.set  up  in  opposition  their  University — not  at  once,  but 
after  it  had  been  much  and  long  discussed  both  in  Catholic 
Ireland  and  at  Rome.  We  were  obliged  to  raise  ;^5,ooo  a 
year  from  the  peasantry,  and  this  we  did  for  20  years  !  There 
was  no  cry  for  money  from  us  then.  All  we  asked,  and  what 
we  could  not  get,  little  as  it  was,  was  the  power  of  granting 
degrees.  No — we  were  not  even  to  have  a  fair  stage.  At 
length  the  Irish  took,  in  defence  of  the  peasantry,  to  ask  for 


LAST  YEARS    (1881-1890)  519 

money.  By  a  Catholic  University  I  mean  one  in  which  the 
Officers  and  Teachers  are  Catholics  :  and  I  demand  it  for 
Ireland  because  the  country  is  Catholic.  This  would  be 
secured  by  the  Bishops  having  a  Veto  on  appointments.' 

The  thought  of  death  was  now  continually  with  Newman, 
and  the  friends  and  acquaintances  acquired  during  a  long 
life  were  dying  constantly.  Lord  Henry  Kerr,  who  belonged 
to  the  former  category,  and  Mr.  Eyston,  the  head  of  a  well- 
known  Catholic  family,  who  belonged  to  the  latter,  both 
passed  away  in  1882.  Lord  Henry  was  James  Hope-Scott's 
brother-in-law,  and  his  death  caused  some  delay  in  the 
appearance  of  the  biography  of  Hope-Scott,  in  which  the 
Cardinal  was  specially  interested.  To  both  of  these  events 
he  refers  in  the  following  letters  to  Miss  Bowles  : 

'  March  10,  1882. 

'  It  grieves  me  very  much  to  see  the  notice  of  Mr.  Eyston's 
death  in  the  paper.  I  can  scarcely  have  seen  him,  since  I 
made  his  and  his  uncle's  acquaintance  on  the  top  of  a  mail 
coach  in  a  heavy  downfall  of  rain,  but  I  have  never  forgotten 
him,  nor  his  name  Charles,  ever  since. 

'  How  the  old  generation  is  fading  away,  out  of  sight ! 
What  a  mystery  is  life,  and  how  it  comes  home  to  such  as 
me  to  think  of  old  Nestor's  melancholy  lines,  "  as  the  out- 
burst and  fall  of  leaves,  such  the  generations  of  man."  How 
inwardly  miserable  must  the  life  of  man  be,  without  the 
Gospel,  and  now  men  are  doing  their  utmost  to  destroy  our 
sole  solace.  .  .  .' 

'  April  13,  1882. 

'  Thank  you  for  your  affectionate  Paschal  greetings,  which 
I  return  with  all  my  heart.  I  send  them  also  to  Frederick, 
since  I  find  you  are  still  with  him,  and  to  Miss  Bathurst  and 
her  community.  .  .  . 

'  I  suppose  dear  Lord  Henry's  death  has  thrown  back  the 
printing  of  the  Memoir.  The  facts,  that  is,  Hope-Scott's 
acts  and  letters,  are  so  striking,  that  they  carry  his  wonder- 
ful character  with  them,  and  need  no  comment.  I  say 
"  wonderful,"  because  it  is  rare  to  find  a  man  of  the  world  so 
deeply  religious,  so  holy  in  the  inner  man.  A  man  may  have 
many  good  points,  yet  have  no  interior.  Hope-Scott  speaks 
for  himself  .  .  . 

'  I  am  very  well,  thank  you,  though  infirm.  I  wish  people 
would  learn  the  difference  between  the  two  words.  Then, 
they  would  not  wish  me  to  leave  home.' 


520  LIFE   OF   CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

To  Sister  Maria  Pia. 

'  B'"  :  July  3,  18S2. 

'  I  did  not  forget  you  on  the  Visitation,  but  said  Mass  for 
you  on  two  other  da}-s  instead,  because  I  heard  that  William 
George  Ward  was  dying.  How  it  was  that  his  serious  state 
of  health  was  not  known  generally  before,  I  cannot  tell, 
but  they  say  that  it  is  a  simple  break  up.  His  principal 
complaint  is  that  of  which  Fr.  Joseph  Gordon  died,  and  that 
was  three  years  upon  him. 

'  It  will  be  still  some  time  before  Palmer's  Journal  will 
issue  from  the  Press.  I  shall  send  it  to  you.  It  seems  to  me 
very  interesting — but  40  years  is  more  than  a  generation  and 
I  can't  prophesy  how  it  will  strike  most  people.  The  Czar 
does  not  appear  in  it,  though  afterwards  he  had  Palmer  to 
dine  with  him.  I  think  the  book  shows  the  impossibility  of  a 
union  of  Greece  with  Anglicans,  and  of  Greece  with  Rome. 
As  for  the  Russian  ecclesiastics,  he  found  that  they  had  all 
but  given  up  the  idea  of  unity,  or  of  the  Catholicity  of  the 
Church.  So  far  they  were  behind  the  Anglicans,  who  at  least 
profess  belief  in  one  Catholic  Church. 

'  I  am  very  well  as  far  as  health  goes — but  I  am  more  and 
more  infirm.  I  am  dim  sighted,  deaf,  lame,  and  have  a  diffi- 
culty in  talking  and  writing.     And  my  memory  is  very  bad. 

'  I  fear  the  enemies  of  the  Church  are  all  but  effecting  its 
absolute  fall  in  France.  The  first  and  second  generation  after 
us  will  have  a  dreadful  time  of  it.  Satan  is  almost  unloosed. 
May  we  all  be  housed  safely  before  that  day  ! 

'  Are  you  not  80  now  ?  ' 

In  1883  the  news  came  that  Dean  Church's  eldest 
daughter  Helen  was  engaged  to  be  married  to  Mr.  Paget, 
afterwards  Bishop  of  Oxford.  The  news  gave  occasion 
for  a  gift  to  the  bride's  twin  sister  Mary,  very  touching  in  all 
that  it  recalled.  It  is  announced  in  the  following  letter  to 
her  father  : 

'  March  28,  1883. 

'  I  said  Mass  for  Helen  and  her  husband  elect  this 
morning.  So  did  Fr.  Neville.  Of  course  it  is,  however  glad 
an  event,  a  very  trying  one  for  all  of  you,  and  not  the  least 
for  Mary. 

'  I  don't  suppose  she  will  find  a  fiddle  make  up  for  Helen, 
but  it  has  struck  me  that  you  and  Blachford  will  let  me  give 
the  beautiful  instrument  you  and  he  gave  me,  to  Mary.  I 
don't  think  she  will  refuse  it  ;  I  hear  much  of  her  proficiency. 


LAST   YEARS    (1881-1890)  521 

'You  gave  it  me  in  1865 — and  I  had  constant  use  and 
pleasure  in  the  use  till  lately — but  I  find  now  I  have  no  com- 
mand of  it ;  nay,  strange  to  say  I  cannot  count  or  keep  time. 
This  is  a  trouble  to  me  ;  one  gets  an  affection  for  a  fiddle,  and 
I  should  not  like  to  go  without  getting  it  a  good  master  or 
mistress.  My  friends  in  this  house  have  instruments  of  their 
own.  So  has  Mary  doubtless — but  this  would  come  with 
associations  in  its  history.' 


To  Sister  Maria  Pia. 

'  June  22,  18S3. 

'  As  the  24th  is  the  day  on  which  the  Achilli  trial  ended 
3 1  years  ago,  I  mean  to  say  Mass  for  you  in  grateful  remem- 
brance of  the  part  you  had  in  it. 

'  As  to  the  Affirmation  Bill,  I  tried  to  sign  my  name 
against  it,  but  had  no  opportunity,  so  far  was  I  from  refusing. 
The  only  opportunity  I  had  was  from  an  anonymous  Bir- 
mingham petition  to  Parliament — but,  when  I  had  almost  got 
the  pen  in  my  hand,  I  felt  that  a  Cardinal  had  no  right  to  put 
down  his  name  amid  a  mixed  multitude.  And  then  I  thought 
*'  have  any  clergy  signed  the  petition  ?  "  and  "  would  not  the 
Bishop  have  told  me  ?  "  So  having  no  hint  and  no  means,  I 
did  not  express  an  opinion.  At  the  same  time,  if  you  ask  my 
real  thought,  I  should  say  that,  tho'  I  wished  to  sign,  I  should 
merely  have  done  so  because  others  did,  not  to  be  singular. 
For  I  think  it  a  piece  of  humbug,  and  no  good  would  come 
of  the  Bill  being  rejected  and  no  harm  by  its  passing.  No 
atheist  is  kept  out  as  it  is,  and  within  the  last  fortnight  a  daily 
paper  has  in  earnest  said  that  atheism  ought  to  be  considered 
one  form  of  theism  !  (Look  at  pp.  36-38  of  my  "  Idea  of  a 
University.")  When  it  was  all  over,  some  one  wrote  to  a 
Paper  to  say  he  had  authority  from  me  to  state  that  I  dis- 
approved in  every  way  of  the  Bill.  This  was  not  true,  and  I 
was  obliged  to  write  a  letter  to  say  that  I  neither  approved 
of  it  nor  disapproved — that  it  was  a  mere  political  bill  with 
which  I  had  nothing  to  do. 

'  I  am  sorry  to  hear  your  accounts  of  Princess  Borghese.' 

Mr.  Hutton  published  early  in  the  following  year,  in  the 
ContcDiporary  Reviezv,  a  very  appreciative  criticism  of  some 
of  the  Cardinal's  writings,  which  he  sent  to  the  Oratory, 
following  up  his  gift  by  a  letter,  to  which  Newman  thus 
replied  : 


522  LIFE  OF   CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

'  May  6,  18S4. 

'  My  dear  Mr.  Hutton, — You  have  anticipated  my  letter 
which  was  going  to  you  to-day. 

'  I  should  have  written  to  thank  you  sooner,  but  I  was  like 
a  man  out  of  breath  from  the  action  of  a  plunging  or  shower 
bath,  or  rather  like  a  baby  in  Martha  Gunn's  hands,  who 
begins  to  cry.  Not  that  I  did  not  feel  your  extreme  kind- 
ness, or  rather  indulgence,  as  well  as  the  depth  and  force  of 
your  criticism.  But  I  am  necessarily  suffering  from  having 
lived  too  long. 

'  I  can't  expect  that  affectionate  friends  such  as  you  (for 
the  words  "  affectionately  yours  "  were  in  my  own  heart  and 
at  the  end  of  my  pen  before  I  found  them  in  your  letter)  that 
such  can  wait  till  my  full  years  on  earth  have  run  out,  before 
they  speak  of  me  ;  nor  that  the  purveyors  of  gossip  of  the 
past  should  refrain  from  tearing  off  my  morbidly  sensitive 
skin,  while  they  can,  with  public  interest ;  but  turning  from 
what  is  accidental,  I  am  obliged  to  look  higher — but  I  am 
too  tired  to  bring  out  here  my  meaning.  Don't  suppose  I 
am  strong,  because  my  writing  is  clear — unless  I  wrote  very 
slowly,  letter  by  letter,  my  writing  would  be  unreadable. 

'  Here  I  am  but  writing  a  letter  of  thanks.  It  is  about 
20  years  since  I  wrote  to  thank  you  for  your  notice  in 
the  Spectator  of  my  "Apologia"  on  its  first  publication.  I 
daresay  it  was  against  the  etiquette  of  the  literary  world,  for 
no  one  was  kind  enough  to  answer  me  but  you.  In  conse- 
quence I  called  on  you  at  your  office.  I  have  never  seen 
you  since,  have  I  ?  but,  whenever  in  London,  from  the 
gratitude  I  felt  for  the  continuance  of  the  kindness  you  first 
showed  in  1864,  I  have  wished  to  do  so.  Now  I  suppose 
there  is  no  chance  of  my  ever  going  to  London,  at  least 
for  many  hours.  You  will  accept  instead,  I  am  sure,  the 
blessing  of  a  Cardinal  of  Holy  Church,  even  though  you 
cannot  accept  that  title  of  "  Holy "  as  given  her  in  the 
Creed. 

'  Yours  affectionately 

John  H.  Card.  Newman.' 

The  present  writer  saw  Mr.  Hutton  after  he  received  this 
reply,  which  caused  him  some  anxiety  lest  he  had  simply 
given  pain  to  the  man  whose  influence  he  had  wished  to 
serve  by  writing  his  article.  He  conveyed  his  anxiety 
to  the  Cardinal  in  a  letter  which  brought  the  following 
characteristic  note  in  reply : 


LAST  YEARS   (1S81-1890)  523 

•May  II,  1884. 

'  My  dear  Mr.  Hutton, — I  am  very  ungrateful  to  you  if  I 
have  given  you  serious  pain.  But  I  do  not  understand  you 
so,  and  I  feel  that  really  you  understand  me. 

*  The  shock  of  a  shower  bath  turns  into  a  feeling  both 
pleasurable  and  permanent,  and  it  was  a  great  omission  in 
me,  if  I  did  not  make  this  clear  to  you. 

'  Yours  affectionately 

John  H.  Card.  Newman.' 

To  Sister  Maria  Pia. 

'Dec.  19,   1884. 

'  Your  letter  has  just  come,  and  I  think  it  better  to 
send  you  my  affectionate  congratulations  and  Cardinalitian 
blessing  by  anticipation  of  the  Feast,  than  to  run  the  risk 
of  engagements  and  over  fatigue  when  the  day  comes. 

*  I  don't  think  anything  of  your  special  mental  trouble, 
for  it  does  not  argue  any  want  of  faith,  but  is  merely  that 
now  you  realize  more  exactly  what  lies  before  you,  and 
your  enemy  takes  advantage  of  what  is  really  a  meritorious 
state  of  mind  to  frighten  you.  I  am  reading  with  great 
interest  Wilfrid  Ward's  (son  of  W.  G.  Ward)  book,  "  The 
Wish  to  Believe,"  and  if,  when  I  have  finished  it,  I  like  it 
as  much  as  I  do  when  I  am  half  through  it,  I  will  send  it 
to  you. 

'  What  I  am  anxious  about  is  your  state  of  health.  You 
have  never,  as  I  think,  realized  that  the  misfortune  you  have 
had  is  very  serious.  You  do  not  now,  I  fear,  protect  yourself 
against  what  may  happen  as  you  ought.  I  have  known 
cases,  which,  for  want  of  proper  habitual  precaution,  ter- 
minated in  sudden  death.  Perhaps  I  am  quite  wrong  in  my 
fear  that  you  neglect  it,  but,  if  so,  I  am  doing  no  harm  by 
my  mistake. 

'  You  are,  I  know,  in  our  Lord's  loving  hands.  You  have 
given  yourself  to  a  life  of  great  penance  for  His  sake,  and 
He  will  not,  docs  not,  forget  it.  "  When  thou  shalt  pass 
through  the  waters.  He  will  be  with  thee,  and  when  thou 
shalt  walk  in  the  fire,  thou  shalt  not  be  burnt,"  for  you  are 
one  of  those  who  have  taken  your  purgatory  in  this  life,  and 
I  rejoice  tc  think  that,  when  God  has  taken  you  hence  I 
shall  have  one  to  plead  for  me  in  heaven.  For  me,  I  have  no 
sign  on  me  of  dying  yet.' 

I  add  a  few  specimens  of  his  letters  and  notes  in  1885  and 
1886: 


524  LIFE    OF   CARDINAL    NEWMAN 

To  Dean  Church. 

'April  12,  1885. 

•  My  dear  Dean, — Thank  you  for  your  impressive  Easter 
Sermon. 

'  It  is  63  years  today  since  I  was  elected  at  Oriel  ;  the 
turning  day  of  my  life. 

'  Yrs  affly, 

J.  H.  Card.  Newman.' 

To  Miss  Bowles. 

'Christmas  Eve,  1885. 

'  Thank  you  for  your  long  letter.  I  rejoice  to  find  that 
Frederick  is  such  a  support  to  you,  and  you  to  him.  You 
have  indeed  had  severe  trials  this  year  past.  Xmas  Day 
was  the  death  day  of  my  last  sister,  in  the  year  I  returned 
from  Rome  (1879).     I  ^^i^l  "ot  forget  your  wish. 

'  I  am  much  weaker  than  this  time  last  year,  but,  as  far 
as  I  know  have  nothing  the  matter  with  me.  The  two  last 
Christmases  I  have  had  most  kind  and  gratifying  messages 
from  the  Holy  Father. 

'  I  send  you  and  your  brother  my  blessing,  as  Christmas 
calls  for  it.' 

To  Mr.  John  Pollen,  who  wrote  to  him  in  the  course 
of  a  long  voyage,  he  thus  replied  : 

'May  6,  1S85. 

'  My  dear  Pollen, — Your  letter  of  this  morning  is  most 
welcome,  and  I  thank  you  for  it.  I  thought  it  a  plucky  thing 
your  going  all  that  way  by  yourself,  and  I  rejoice  that  you 
are  back  safe  and  sound.  Though  no  traveller  myself,  I  can 
sympathise  in  what  you  tell  me.  I  have  gone  through  the 
Gibraltar  galleries  and  brought  away  from  them  at  least 
one  piece  of  knowledge  which,  after  all  the  changes  in  the 
science  of  warfare,  seems,  [by]  the  account  of  poor  Colonel 
Stewart's  act  on  running  on  the  rock  on  the  Nile,  still  to  hold 
good,  that  there  are  two  ways  of  disabling  a  gun,  spiking  it, 
and  knocking  it  off  the  end  of  the  trunnion.  Also  I  recollect 
a  window  in  the  galleries  from  which  you  looked  down  800 
feet  sharp  descent. 

'  Well,  and  I  sympathise  with  you  in  the  strange  feeling 
of  coming  on  deck  of  a  morning  and  seeing  before  you 
Cadiz,  Algiers,  Palermo  or  Ithaca,  like  the  rounds  in  a  Magic 
Lantern,  though  the  middies  and  the  crew  take  it  as  a  matter 
of  course. 

'  One  thing  I  confess  lies  outside  my  sympathy,  though  it 
touches  me  much,  and  all  the  more,  viz.  your  having  recourse 


LAST   YEARS    (1881-1890)  525 

to  "  The  Grammar  of  Assent "  as  a  refuge  from  the  palm 
trees  and  apes.  My  imagination  will  not  take  it  in,  except 
as  a  pendant  to  that  great  Ch.  Ch.  Greek  scholar  who  to 
relieve  himself  of  the  excitement  of  the  subjunctive  mood, 
used  to  take  up  a  volume  of  the  Tracts  for  the  Times.  I 
think  he  told  me  so  himself. 

'  Your  sketchy  account  of  India  made  me  understand  why 
the  Russians  should  covet  it.  .  .  . 

'When  you  see  Lord  Ripon,  please  to  tell  him  how  I 
rejoice  in  his  triumphant  return.  I  have  not  written  my 
congratulations  because  I  feel  my seU passe  and  thereby  privi- 
leged. Indeed  I  am  really  old  now.  I  write  slowly  and 
with  effort  and  pain,  and  have  various  small  ailments  which  I 
seem  unable  to  throw  off,  and  I  am  writing  this  as  I  lie  upon 

a  sofa. 

'  Ever  yours  affectionately, 

John  H.  Card.  Newman.' 

In  the  same  year  he  sent  his  collected  works  as  a  gift 
to  his  old  College,  Trinity,  with  the  following  letter  to 
Dr.  Percival,  its  president : 

'May  18,  1S85. 

'  My  dear  President, — I  have  been  asking  myself  how  I 
could  show  that  I  was  still  mindful  of  the  kindness  done  me 
by  the  College  in  giving  me  a  place  among  its  Fellows,  now 
that  I  can  no  longer  present  myself  to  them  in  person  on  the 
annual  "  Gaudy  "  ;  and  the  bold  thought  has  come  to  me  that, 
instead  of  myself,  perhaps  they  would  let  me  offer  to  them  a 
set  of  the  books  I  have  published  in  the  course  of  my  life. 

'  I  know  indeed  how  books  grow  on  the  shelves  of  a 
Library,  and  how  precious  in  consequence  is  the  space,  and 
I  shall  iDe  content  if  there  is  room  only  for  some  of  mine  ; 
still  it  seems  a  duty  to  offer  all  if  I  offer  any,  while,  in  order 
to  give  the  Librarian  a  choice,  I  send  you,  with  this  letter,  a 
complete  list  of  them. 

'  I  hope  you  will  not  think  me  unreasonable  in  thus 
writing  to  you.  This  May  the  i8th  on  which  I  write  is  the 
anniversary  of  the  Monday  on  which  in  1818  I  was  elected  a 
member  of  your  Foundation. 

'  May  your  yearly  Festival  ever  be  as  happy  a  day  to  you 
all,  as  in  18 18  it  was  to  me. 

*  I  am,  my  dear  President, 
Sincerely  yours, 

John  H,  Card.  Newman. 

'  P.S.  Excuse  my  hand  writing.  1  am  now  scarcely  able 
to  form  any  letters.' 


526  LIFE   OF   CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

To  Dean  Church. 

'March  25,  1886. 
'  My  dear  Dean, — Many  thanks.  I  am  going  up  to  the 
Duchess  [of  Norfolk's]  Requiem  Mass  on  Monday.  How 
I  am  to  get  thro'  it,  I  can't  tell.  I  hope  I  shall  not  be 
using  your  house  as  an  Infirmary — I  am,  not  ill,  but  so 
weak  and  sleepy. 

'  Ever  yrs  affly, 

John  H.  Card.  Newman.' 

To  THE  Rev.  A.  Spurrier. 

'Dec.  II,  1886. 

'  I  wish  the  state  of  my  fingers  allowed  me  to  write  a 
sufficient,  or  at  least  a  readable  answer  to  your  question.  I 
must  be  abrupt,  because  I  must  be  short. 

'  Who  can  have  dared  to  say  that  I  am  disappointed  in 
the  Church  of  Rome  ?  I  say  "  dared,"  because  I  have  never 
uttered,  or  written,  or  thought,  or  felt  the  very  shadow  of 
disappointment.  I  believe  it  to  be  a  human  institution  as 
well  as  a  divine,  and  so  far  as  it  is  human  it  is  open  to  the 
faults  of  human  nature  ;  but  if,  because  I  think,  with  others, 
that  its  rulers  have  sometimes  erred  as  fallible  men,  I  there- 
fore think  it  has  failed,  such  logic  won't  hold  ;  indeed,  it  is 
the  wonderful  anticipation  in  Our  Lord's  and  St.  Paul's 
teaching,  of  apparent  failure  [and  real]  success  in  the  times 
after  them  which  has  ever  been  one  of  my  strong  arguments 
for  believing  them  divine  messengers. 

'  But  I  can't  write  more.  One  word  as  to  your  next  page. 
Faith  is  a  divine  gift.  It  is  gained  by  prayer.  Prayer  must 
be  patient  and  persevering.  I  have  not  strength  to  explain 
and  defend  this  here.     God  bless  you.' 

He  exchanged  some  letters  at  the  end  of  this  year  with 
Mr.  G.  T.  Edwards,  formerly  secretary  to  the  London  Evan- 
gelical Society,  and  in  closing  the  correspondence  expressed 
his  own  feeling  that  he  had  found  in  the  Catholic  Church  the 
fuller  development  of  all  that  he  had  most  reverenced  and 
still  reverenced  in  the  Evangelical  creed  of  his  youth. 

'Feby.  24th,  1S87. 

'  My  difficulty  in  writing  breaks  my  thoughts,  and  my 
feelings,  and  I  not  only  can't  say,  what  I  wish  to  say,  but 
also  my  wishes  themselves  fare  as  if  a  dish  of  cold  water  was 
thrown  over  them. 

'  I  felt  your  letter,  as  all  your  letters,  to  be  very  kind 
to  me,  and  I  feel  very  grateful  to  you.     I  don't  know  why 


f 


LAST  YEARS   (1881-1890)  527 

you  have   been  so  kind,  and  you  have  been  so  more   and 
more. 

'  I  will  not  close  our  correspondence,  without  testifying 
my  simple  love  and  adhesion  to  the  Catholic  Roman  Church, 
not  that  I  think  you  doubt  this  ;  and  did  I  wish  to  give  a 
reason  for  this  full  and  absolute  devotion,  what  should,  what 
can  I  say  but  that  those  great  and  burning  truths  which  I 
learned  when  a  boy  from  Evangelical  teaching,  I  have  found 
impressed  upon  my  heart  with  fresh  and  ever  increasing  force 
by  the  Holy  Roman  Church  ?  That  Church  has  added  to 
the  simple  Evangelicalism  of  my  first  teachers,  but  it  has 
obscured,  diluted,  enfeebled,  nothing  of  it.  On  the  contrary 
I  have  found  a  power,  a  resource,  a  comfort,  a  consolation  in 
our  Lord's  Divinity  and  atonement,  in  His  real  presence  in 
Communion,  in  His  Divine  and  Human  power,  which  all 
good  Catholics  indeed  have,  but  which  Evangelical  Christians 
have  but  faintly.     But  I  have  not  strength  to  say  more. 

*  Thank  you  for  the  beautiful  Edition  of  the  New  Testa- 
ment.    I  have  a  great  dislike  to  heavy  books.' 

There  is  a  curious  letter  belonging  to  the  same  year 
dictated  in  reply  to  one  in  which  the  Jesuit  Father  Hopkins 
had  recorded  his  experience  of  the  anti-English  feeling  in 
parts  of  Ireland  : 

'  March  3,  1887. 

'  Your  letter  is  an  appalling  one— but  not  on  that  account 
untrustworthy.  There  is  one  consideration  however  which 
you  omit.  The  Irish  Patriots  hold  that  they  never  have 
yielded  themselves  to  the  sway  of  England  and  therefore 
never  have  been  under  her  laws,  and  never  have  been  rebels. 

'  This  does  not  diminish  the  force  of  your  picture,  but  it 
suggests  that  there  is  no  help,  no  remedy.  If  I  were  an 
Irishman,  I  should  be  (in  heart)  a  rebel.  Moreover,  to  clench 
the  difficulty  the  Irish  character  and  tastes  [are]  very  different 
from  the  English. 

*  My  fingers  will  not  let  me  write  more.' 


On  the  same  day  he  wrote  to  his  cousin,  Miss  Emmeline 
Deane,  who  was  anxious  to  paint  his  picture  : 

'  My  dear  Emmeline, —  It  would  be  a  great  pleasure  and 
favour  to  me  to  be  painted  by  you.  These  are  not  idle 
words,  and  I  should  rejoice  to  see  you.  But  my  time  is  not 
my  own.  It  is  not  now  my  own  as  if  I  were  young,  and  I 
have  much  to  do,  and  have  no  certainty  when  the  supply  of 
time  will  cease,  and  life  end. 


'; 


528  LIFE   OF   CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

'  You  may  recollect  the  histories  of  St.  Bede  and  St. 
Anselm.  They  were  each  of  them  finishing  a  great  work, 
and  they  had  to  run  a  race  with  time.  Anselm  did  not  finish 
his — but  Bede  just  managed  to  be  successful.  Anselm  was 
^6 — but  Bede  was  only  62.     I,  alas,  alas,  am  86. 

'  What  chance  have  I  of  doing  my  small  work,  however 
much  I  try?  and  you  lightly  ask  me,  my  dear  child,  to  give 
up  the  long  days,  which  are  in  fact  the  only  days  I  have ! 

*  The  only  days  I  have,  because  it  is  my  misfortune  not  to 
be  able  to  read  by  candle-light,  and  at  this  very  time,  though 
March  has  begun,  I  am  anxiously  waiting  day  by  day,  though 
as  yet  in  vain,  for  the  morning  light  to  be  strong  enough  to 
enable  me  to  say  Mass  without  the  vain  attempt  to  use  a 
candle. 

'  I  must  add  that  now  for  two  years  I  have  lost  the  use  of 
my  fingers  for  writing,  and  am  obliged  to  write  very  slowly  in 
order  to  form  my  letters. 

*  It  is  all  this  which  hinders  my  saying  categorically 
"  yes  "  to  your  kind,  and,  to  me,  welcome  question. 

'  But  I  will  say  this — I  am  labouring  to  carry  two  volumes 
of"  St.  Athanasius  "  through  the  press — I  fear  this  will  take  at 
least  half  a  year — this  must  be — but  I  know  no  excuse,  if  it 
suits  you,  why  you  should  not  write  again  to  me  then,  if  I 
am  then  alive. 

*  Yours  affectly, 

John  H.  Card.  Newman.' 

He  read  in  this  year  a  short  religious  tale  ^  by  a  daughter 
of  his  old  friend  Mr.  Hope-Scott,  and  thus  wrote  to  its 
author  : 

'June  2ist,  1887. 

*  My  dear  Josephine, — I  should  like  to  send  you  a  long 
letter,  but  my  fingers  won't  write,  and  I  fear  you  will  not  be 
able  to  read  this  attempt. 

'  I  like  your  book  extremely.  It  has  great  merits.  You 
have  hit  ofif  your  characters  very  well.  Few  Catholics  have 
described  so  well  a  pious  dissenting  Evangelical.  And  in 
her  way  Fanny  is  as  good  as  Bessie.  And  the  contrast  of 
motives  (each  supernatural)  which  led  the  two  into  the 
Church  is  excellently  brought  out. 

'  You  are  somewhat  ambitious  in  your  sketch  of  Staples, 
but  it  is  good  as  an  imagination,  which  requires  filling  out. 

*  There  is  perhaps  too  much  direct  teaching  and  preaching 
in  the  Tale — though  perhaps   it  could  not  be  helped.     You 

'  In  the  Way.     Burns  &  Oates. 


I 


LAST   YEARS  (1881-1890)  529 

have  referred  to  Bishop  Hay  once ;  I  think  it  would  have 
been  more  prudent  if,  at  the  foot  of  the  page,  you  had  now 
and  then  [given  references]  :  "  Vid.  Bp.  Hay,"  *'  vid.  Fr. 
Faber,"  or  the  like. 

'  Now,  my  dear  Child,  I  hope  this  criticism  will  not 
frighten  you.  If  I  was  not  pleased  with  your  work,  if  I  did 
not  think  it  likely  to  do  glory  to  God,  if  I  did  not  love  you 
and  take  an  interest  in  you,  I  should  not  have  written.  You 
must  not  be  startled  at  my  abruptness,  that  arises  from  the 
effort  and  trouble  with  which  I  write. 

'  I  always  have  you  and  your  sisters  and  brother  in  my 
prayers. 

'  Yours  affectionately, 

J.  H.  Card.  Newman.' 

Henceforth  he  wrote  but  little  in  his  own  handwriting, 
and  the  following  unfinished  fragment  to  Dean  Church  tells 
its  own  story  : 

•Julys,  1887. 

*  I  was  very  glad  to  receive  your  letter,  for  I  feared  the 
heat  of  London  was  telling  upon  you,  and  the  Papers  said 
nothing  of  you  good  or  bad.  For  myself,  though  I  have  no 
complaint,  "  senectus  ipsa  est  morbus,"  showing  itself  in 
failure  of  sight,  speech,  joints,  hearing.' 

The  last  autograph  letter  the  present  writer  has  seen  is 
the  following,  written  to  himself  on  the  occasion  of  his 
engagement  to  the  daughter  of  the  Cardinal's  old  friend, 
Mr.    Hope-Scott,    to   whom    the    letter    already  cited    was 

addressed  : 

'  Sept.  28th,  1S87. 
'  My  dear  Wilfrid, — What  a  capital  letter  you  have  sent 
me.     I   rejoice  to  receive  it,  and   send   you   gladly  my  con- 
gratulations and  blessing. 

'  I  have  neither  eyes  to  see,  nor  fingers  to  write.  So  these 
lines  (are  they  lines?)  are  but  an  ungrateful  return  for  yours 
and  Josephine's. 

'  Yours  affectly, 

J.  H.  Card.  Newman.' 

Other  habitual  tasks  besides  letter-writing  soon  became 
impossible.  The  Cardinal  preached  for  the  last  time  on 
January  i,  1888,  at  the  celebration  of  the  sacerdotal  Jubilee 
of  Leo  Xni.  The  thought  which  had  so  long  tried  him — 
that  he  had  been  allowed  to  do  so  little  since  his  admission 
VOL.  II.  M   M 


530  LIFE   OF   CARDINAL  NEWMAN 

to  the  Catholic  Church  up  to  the  last  years  of  his  life— was 
apparent  in  this  sermon.  He  found  in  this  a  point  of 
sympathy  with  Pope  Leo,  who  was  himself  (he  believed) 
an  old  and  comparatively  unknown  man  when  the  great 
opportunity  of  his  elevation  to  the  Pontificate  was  given 
him.     It  was  the  way  of  God's  Providence. 

'  When  we  look  back,'  he  said,  '  at  the  lives  of  holy  men  it 
often  seems  wonderful  that  God  had  not  employed  them  more 
fully.'    He  pointed  out  the  inscrutable  ways  of  Almighty  God 
in  choosing  persons  to  do  His  work,  Moses  being  eighty  years 
of  age  before  he  began  his  career  as  leader  of  the  Israelites, 
while  St.  John  the  Baptist  was  cut  off  at  the  beginning  of  his 
work.     After  citing  as  instances  St.  Gregory  Nazianzen  and 
others  from  ecclesiastical  history,  the  Cardinal  said  :   '  I   do 
not  directly  compare  our  present  Holy  Father  with  Moses, 
but  still  the  same  rule  applies  in  his  case.     He  had  lived  a 
long  life  before  he  was  Pope  ;  and  he  has  now  done  things 
which   it   might  be  said  no  other   man  could  do,  yet  it  is 
scarcely  to  be  supposed  that  any  one  present  had  heard  his 
name  before  he  was  Pope.     There  did  not  seem  any  likelihood 
that  he  would  leave  his  Perugia  bishopric,  but  he  was  found 
as  others  were  found,  by  the  special  providence  and  inspira- 
tion of  God,  and  we  in  our  ignorance  knew  nothing  of  him.' 

'  In  conclusion,'  so  runs  the  newspaper  report  of  the 
sermon,  '  the  Cardinal  thanked  God,  as  for  one  of  the  special 
blessings  of  his  life,  that  he  was  allowed  to  stand  there  and 
say  a  few  words  that  day,  and  that  by  the  special  favour  of 
God  he  had  lived  thus  long  to  see  such  a  man.' 

To  the  very  last  the  feeling  of  regret  for  lost  time  would 
at  times  find  fresh  expression.  The  opposition  of  men— of 
good  men— had  for  years  defeated  so  many  of  his  efforts. 
And  now  the  night  was  approaching  and  he  could  do  but 
little.  Nevertheless,  while  he  could  not  cease  to  feel  this  fact 
keenly,  he  recognised  how  small  such  personal  considerations 
would  look  in  the  light  of  eternity. 

'  As  to  what  may  be  called  wrongs  to  him,  his  own  last 
words  on  such  subjects,'  writes  Father  Neville,  '  were  nearly 
these  :  "  You  must  not  suppose  that  these  little  affairs  of 
mine  will  be  on  the  tapis  in  the  courts  of  the  next  world." 
This  was  said  with  a  cheerfulness  and  gravity  very  expressive 


LAST   YEARS    (1881-1890)  531 

of  great  kindness,  a  good  conscience,  and  solemn  thought. 
It  was  said  after  a  long  silence  :  a  silence  which  he  resumed 
for  a  considerable  time.  He  had  been  speaking  of  his  many 
years  of  wasted  work.' 

So  far  as  age  and  infirmity  allowed  it,  the  Cardinal  kept 
up  his  intercourse  with  old  friends.  Three  meetings  in  the 
last  years  of  his  life  with  his  faithful  ally  and  staunch  sup- 
porter Bishop  Ullathorne  are  chronicled  in  that  prelate's 
Biography.  On  August  18,  1887,  Dr.  Ullathorne  writes  to 
a  friend  as  follows  : 

'  I  have  been  visiting  Cardinal  Newman  to-day.  He  is 
much  wasted,  but  very  cheerful.  Yesterday  he  went  to 
London  to  see  an  oculist.  When  he  tries  to  read  black 
specks  are  before  his  eyes.  But  his  oculist  tells  him  there  is 
nothing  wrong  but  old  age.  We  had  a  long  and  cheery  talk, 
but  as  I  was  rising  to  leave  an  action  of  his  caused  a  scene 
I  shall  never  forget.  .  .  .  He  said  in  low  and  humble  accents, 
"  My  dear  Lord,  will  you  do  me  a  great  favour  ? "  "  What  is 
it  ?  "  I  asked.  He  glided  down  on  his  knees,  bent  down  his 
venerable  head,  and  said,  "Give  me  your  blessing."  What 
could  I  do  with  him  before  me  in  such  a  posture  ?  I  could 
not  refuse  without  giving  him  great  embarrassment.  So  I 
laid  my  hand  on  his  head  and  said  :  "  My  dear  Lord  Cardinal, 
notwithstanding  all  laws  to  the  contrary,  I  pray  God  to  bless 
you,  and  that  His  Holy  Spirit  may  be  full  in  your  heart." 
As  I  walked  to  the  door,  refusing  to  put  on  his  biretta  as  he 
went  with  me,  he  said  :  "  I  have  been  indoors  all  my  life, 
whilst  you  have  battled  for  the  Church  in  the  world." ' 

Again,  on  April   16,   1888,  Dr.  Ullathorne  writes: 

'  To-day  I  have  been  honoured  with  a  visit  from  Cardinal 
Newman,  and  never  did  he  look  more  venerable,  and  show 
more  feeling.  He  had  fixed  his  mind  all  Lent  to  come  and 
see  me  on  Easter  Monday.  When  that  day  came  he  was 
forbidden  to  leave  the  house.  To-day  was  bright,  and  he 
came  ;  he  was  brought  to  my  room  leaning  on  the  arms  of 
two  priests,  and  we  talked  for  an  hour,  after  which  he  left. 
He  can  no  longer  read,  and  even  if  he  tries  to  sign  his  name 
he  cannot  see  what  strokes  he  makes.  But  I  was  much 
touched  by  his  conversation.' 

The  last  meeting  of  all  was  in  the  following  July  at  Stone 
convent,  so  long  the  home  of  Mother  Margaret  Hallahan  and 

M  M  2 


532  LIFE   OF   CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

Mother  Imelda.     The  meeting  has  been  described  by  one  of 
the  nuns : 

'On  the  1 6th  of  July  the  Connmunity  received  an  un- 
expected visit  from  the  venerable  Cardinal  Newman,  the  last 
time  they  were  ever  to  enjoy  that  privilege.  His  coming  had 
been  announced  in  the  morning,  and  on  his  arrival  he  was  met 
at  the  door  by  the  Archbishop,  who  gave  him  his  arm,  and 
supported  him  to  the  Community  room,  where  he  received 
the  Religious,  saying  a  kind  word  to  each  whom  he  knew. 
He  spoke  of  a  visit  he  had  lately  made  to  London,  and  of  the 
impression  which  the  sight  of  the  great  metropolis  had  made 
on  him,  "like  a  glimpse  of  the  great  Babylon.  ...  It  made 
me  think  of  the  words,  '  Love  not  the  world  nor  the  things  of 
the  world.'  Perhaps,  however,  I  am  too  severe,  and  only 
think  in  that  way  because  I  am  an  old  man."  After  a  while 
he  rose  and  blessed  the  Community  and  returned  to  the  guest 
room,  still  leaning  on  the  Archbishop's  arm.  There  he  con- 
sented to  rest  for  a  short  space  and  take  some  refreshment, 
the  Archbishop  pouring  out  tea  for  him  and  holding  it  to  his 
lips.  To  see  these  two  venerable  men  thus  together,  one 
waiting  on  the  other  and  supporting  his  feebleness,  was  a 
sight  never  to  be  forgotten  ;  and  few  who  then  saw  them 
would  have  predicted  that  the  elder,  and  more  infirm  of  the 
two,  would  be  the  survivor.'  ^ 

Of  the  last  two  years,  with  the  gradual  failure  which 
they  brought,  Father  Neville  has  left  a  simple  and  touching 
narrative : 

*  According  to  the  custom  of  Cardinals  he  said  his  own 
private  Mass  in  a  private  chapel,  and  always  as  early  as 
convenient  to  others  ;  for  the  last  time,  the  Christmas  Day 
before  he  died,  after  which  Feast  he  always  declined  to  say 
Mass  himself  from  fear  of  an  accident.  Sight  and  strength 
had  already  very  greatly  failed  him,  and  he  feared  lest  he 
should  overbalance  in  taking  the  chalice.  Reverence  forbade 
such  a  risk.  Nevertheless  he  learnt  by  heart  a  Mass  of  the 
Blessed  Virgin  and  a  Mass  of  the  Dead.  One  or  other  of 
these  Masses  he  repeated  daily,  whole  or  part,  and  with  the 
due  ceremonies,  for  the  chance  that  he  hoped  for,  since  his 
sight  and  strength  varied,  that  with  the  brighter  sunlight  of 
the  spring  he  might  some  day  find  himself  in  condition  to 
say  Mass  once  again.  He  was  determined,  he  said,  that  no 
want  of  readiness  on  his  part  should  cause  him  to  miss  the 

'  See  Life  of  Archbishop   Ullaihorne,  ii.   533.     Dr.  Ullathorne  on  resigning 
his  See  was  made  a  titular  Archbishop. 


LAST   YEARS   (1881-1890)  533 

opportunity  should  it  occur.  This  preparation  became  to  him 
the  great  pleasure  of  the  day,  both  from  what  he  could  look 
forward  to  in  hope,  and  also  from  the  reverence  that  filled 
him  by  the  solemnity  of  the  words  and  different  actions. 
This  reverence  would  sometimes  be  manifest  in  his  face  and 
voice,  and  sometimes  he  would  give  expression  of  it  by  word 
to  those  who  assisted  him.  He  continued  this  preparation 
until  within  two  or  three  days  of  his  death,  August  11,  1890. 
The  hoped-for  opportunity  to  say  Mass  never  came. 

'  Other  religious  privations  had  already  come  upon  him. 
First  that  of  the  daily  Office  in  the  Breviary.  He  had  always 
been  greatly  attached  to  the  recital  of  the  Office,  and  he 
rejoiced  especially  in  the  recurrence  of  the  Sunday  and  other 
longer  offices  ;  his  favourite  parts  of  which  never  palled  upon 
him  as  subjects  for  conversation.  But  the  time  came  when 
he  could  no  longer  use  the  Breviary,  and  then,  by  the  advice 
of  Bishop  Ullathorne,  he  substituted  the  Rosary  in  its  stead. 
What  the  Rosary  became  to  him  under  these  new  circum- 
stances, those  can  imagine  who  know  what  his  attachment  to 
the  daily  Office  had  been  ;  his  ready  reply  to  a  condolence  on 
his  loss  of  the  power  to  say  it  being,  that  the  Rosary  more 
than  made  up  for  it ;  that  the  Rosary  was  to  him  the  most 
beautiful  of  all  devotions  and  that  it  contained  all  in  itself 
In  time,  however,  the  Rosary  had  to  be  abandoned,  a  want  of 
sensitiveness  in  his  finger-ends  disabling  him  from  its  use. 
From  far  back,  in  the  long  distance  of  time,  memory  brings 
him  forward,  when  not  engaged  in  writing  or  reading,  as  most 
frequently  having  the  Rosary  in  his  hand.' 

One  by  one,  too,  old  habits  and  amusements  had  to  follow 
these  devotional  exercises,  leaving  dictation  and  the  reading 
of  others  to  take  their  place.  He  was  unable  any  longer 
himself  to  preach.  But  when  in  1889  Leo  XHI.  protested 
against  the  erection  in  Rome  of  a  statue  to  Giordano  Bruno, 
Cardinal  Newman  dictated  some  words  to  be  read  by  one  of 
the  Fathers  from  the  pulpit,  vehemently  endorsing  the  Holy 
Father's  protest. 

In  the  same  year  Englishmen  were  talking  a  good  deal  of 
the  conspicuous  part  which  Cardinal  Manning  was  taking  in 
arbitrating  between  masters  and  men  in  the  dockers'  strike. 
The  subject  gl^  occasion  for  a  pleasant  exchange  of  letters 
between  the  two  English  Cardinals.  Father  Neville  speaks 
as  follows  of  Newman's  feeling  in  relation  to  Cardinal 
Manning's  action  in  the  matter  : 


534  LIFE   OF  CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

'  "  What  did  Cardinal  Newman  think  of  that  movement  ?  " 
It  is  a  subject  that  had  not  been  brought  before  him  in  former 
years,  and  it  was  not  now  in  his  power  to  judge  of  it  at  all 
fully ;  but  he  could  see  with  great  satisfaction  how  Cardinal 
Manning  had  manifested  to  the  whole  country  the  interest 
Holy  Church  takes  in  the  welfare  of  the  poor.  To  Cardinal 
Newman  this  was  a  subject  for  rejoicing  ;  he  therefore  dictated 
a  little  letter  to  the  Cardinal  Archbishop  congratulating  his 
Eminence  most  heartily  thereon.  Cardinal  Manning's  reply 
was  as  follows : 

'  Archbishop's  House,  Westminster  :  September  30,  1889. 

'  My  dear  Cardinal, — Your  letter  of  this  morning  is  as 
grateful  to  me,  as  it  was  unlooked  for ;  and  I  thank  you  for 
it  very  heartily. 

'  I  was  rejoiced  to  see  the  other  day  the  words  you  spoke 
in  Church  about  Giordano  Bruno.  They  showed  the  old 
energy  of  days  now  past  for  both  of  us. 

'  Do  not  forget  me  in  your  prayers  ;  every  day  I  remember 
you  at  the  altar. 

'  Believe  me  always, 

Yours  affectionately, 

Henry  E.  Cardinal  Manning.' 

To  the  very  end  Cardinal  Newman  longed  to  do  some 
useful  work,  though  the  failure  of  his  powers  left  him  little 
opportunity.  One  occasion  did  present  itself  only  a  few 
months  before  his  death.  I  slightly  abridge  Father  Neville's 
account  of  it : 

'  It  concerned  a  number  of  young  Catholics  employed  in 
a  large  manufactory  where  great  care  was  taken  of  them,  all 
of  the  hands  being  girls.  It  was  the  rule  that  every  one  on 
the  premises  should  assemble  at  a  fixed  time  in  the  working 
hours,  once  a  day,  for  religious  instruction,  viz.  the  reading 
of  Scripture  with  an  exposition  thereon  by  the  masters  them- 
selves, who  were  of  the  Society  of  Friends.  This  rule  had 
been  complied  with  a  very  long  time,  but  when  the  priest  of 
the  mission  heard  of  it,  he  strictly  forbade  his  own  people 
to  attend,  no  matter  how  short  the  time.  The  masters 
would  not  take  the  priest's  word  as  final  ;  they  would 
like,  they  said,  the  opinion  of  some  such  liberal-minded 
Catholic  as  Cardinal  Newman  on  so  unexpected  a  command. 
This  our  Cardinal  thought  a  call  upon  him  to  come  forward, 
and  he  lost  no  time.  It  was  in  the  month  of  November, 
the  year  before  he  died,  a  time  of  thick  snow  and  thaw, 
which  obliged  him  to  walk  some  little  way  to  the  works  ;  but 
he  would  not  hear  of  delay  and  drove  to  see  the  masters. 


LAST   YEARS    (1881-1890)  535 

'The  masters  maintained  very  well  their  own  religious 
grounds  for  the  observance  of  the  rule,  and  since  they  could 
not  enter  into  the  Cardinal's  argument  for  relaxation  which 
he  rested  on  the  need  of  the  entirety  of  the  Creed,'  he  had,  he 
said,  to  have  his  wits  well  about  him  not  to  go  wrong.  That, 
however,  he  rather  enjoyed.  The  masters  received  what  he 
put  forward  with  kindness  and  respect,  and  they  said  they 
would  talk  the  matter  over  by  themselves.  Anticipating  suc- 
cess, the  Cardinal's  first  words  on  re-entering  his  carriage 
came  with  pleased  briskness  :  "  If  I  can  but  do  work  such  as 
that,  I  am  happy  and  content  to  live  on."  A  few  days 
brought  the  good  news  that  all  difficulties  had  been  got  over 
by  a  room  having  been  set  apart  for  the  Catholics  to  meet  in 
for  prayer  by  themselves — a  very  great  privilege  that  is  in 
force  to  this  day.' 

Two  letters  written  in  1889  and  1890  should  be  added 
to  those  that  have  been  given.  One  relates  to  the  death  of 
Father  Hecker,  the  Paulist  whose  efforts  to  interpret  the 
Catholic  religion  to  his  contemporaries  in  America  had 
commanded  Newman's  close  sympathy.  The  other  shows 
him  at  the  end  of  his  long  life  of  nearly  ninety  years 
exchanging  words  of  sympathy  and  fellowship  with  an 
adherent  of  his  own  early  Evangelical  creed — Mr.  Edwards, 
and  sending  him  his  own  translation  of  the  ancient  prayer, 
used  by  St.  Ignatius  Loyola  in  his  spiritual  exercises, 
'  Anima  Christi  sanctifica  me. ' 

To  Father  Hewit. 

'Feb.  28th,  1S89. 
*  My  dear  Father  Hewit, — I  was  very  sorrowful  at  hearing 
of  Father  Hecker's  death.  I  have  ever  felt  that  there  was 
this  sort  of  unity  in  our  lives,  that  we  had  both  begun  a  work 
of  the  same  kind,  he  in  America  and  I  in  England,  and  I 
know  how  zealous  he  was  in  promoting  it.  It  is  not  many 
months  since  I  received  a  vigorous  and  striking  proof  of  it  in 
the  book  he  sent  me.  Now  I  am  left  with  one  friend  less, 
and  it  remains  with  me  to  convey  through  you  my  best  con- 
dolcment  to  all  the  members  of  your  Society. 

'  Hoping  that  you  do  not  forget  me  in  your  prayers, 
'  I  am,  dear  Father  Hewit, 

Most  truly  yours, 

John  H.  Card.  Newman.' 

'  His  argument  had  ever  been  that  heretics  held  part  of  the  Creed,  Catholics 
the  whole— obviously  not  a  popular  argument. 


536  T.IFE   OF   CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

To  Mr.  G.  T.  Edwards. 

'  29lh  January,  1890. 
'  My  dear  Mr.  Edwards, — Accept  my  tardy  Christmas 
greetings  and  good  wishes  to  you  for  fuhicss  in  faith,  hope, 
charity,  gladness  and  peace ;  for  the  blessings  of  Holy 
Church,  and  of  Gospel  gifts,  for  the  Communion  of  Saints, 
and  the  Life  Everlasting.  [^ 

*  I  shall  venture  to  send  you  what  I  may  call  my  Creed 
over-leaf 

'  Yours  most  truly,  I 

J.  H.  N.  ] 

'My  Creed.  '- 

Soul  of  Christ,  be  my  sanctification  ; 

Body  of  Christ,  be  my  salvation  ; 

Blood  of  Christ,  fill  all  my  veins  ; 

Water  of  Christ's  side,  wash  out  my  stains, 

Passion  of  Christ,  my  comfort  be, 

O  good  Jesus,  listen  to  me 

In  thy  wounds  I  fain  would  hide 

Ne'er  to  be  parted  from  Thy  side  ; 

Guard  me  should  the  foe  assail  me  ; 

Call  me  when  my  life  shall  fail  me. 

Bid  me  come  to  Thee  above, 

With  Thy  Saints  to  sing  Thy  love, 

World  without  end.     Amen.' 

'  It  might  be  said  of  the  Cardinal,'  writes  Father  Neville, 
'  that  he  clung  to  life  to  the  end.  He  knew  how  he  would 
be  missed  by  some,  and  he  felt  for  them  ;  and  there  were 
objects  and  interests  which  he  held  very  tenderly  in  mind 
with  this  thought  of  them— what  would  happen  in  the 
struggle  which  in  his  forecast  of  the  future  seemed  likely  to 
come  ?  God's  cause  was  ever  in  his  mind.  And  as  long  as 
he  could  in  any  way  serve  it  he  desired  to  stay.' 

However,  in  the  summer  of  1890  it  was  clear  that  the  end 
was  not  far  distant.  Father  Neville  records  that  the  Cardinal 
was  displeased  with  the  doctors  for  speaking  as  though  he 
might  yet  live  a  year  or  two  when  they  must  know  that  it 
was  a  matter  of  months  or  even  weeks.  Death  did  come 
almost  suddenly.  But  it  was  immediately  preceded  by  a 
somewhat  remarkable  momentary  rally  on  the  evening  of 
August  9,  which  Father  Neville  thus  records  : 


LAST   YEARS   (1881-1890)  537 

'The  Cardinal  entered  his  room  .  .  .  his  footstep  was 
slow  yet  firm  and  elastic  ;  indeed,  it  was  not  recognized  as 
his,  his  attendant  was  surprised  that  it  was  he ;  soon,  when 
seen,  his  bearing  was  in  keeping  with  his  step  ; — unbent,  erect 
to  the  full  height  of  his  best  days  in  the  'fifties  ;  he  was 
without  support  of  any  kind.  His  whole  carriage  was,  it  may 
be  said,  soldier-like,  and  so  dignified  ;  and  his  countenance 
was  most  attractive  to  look  at ;  even  great  age  seemed  to 
have  gone  from  his  face,  and  with  it  all  careworn  signs  ;  his 
very  look  conveyed  the  cheerfulness  and  gratitude  of  his 
mind,  and  what  he  said  was  so  kind  ;  his  voice  was  quite 
fresh  and  strong,  his  whole  appearance  was  that  of  power, 
combined  with  complete  calm.  .  .  .' 

That  night  he  was  taken  ill  of  congestion  of  the  lungs. 
He  rose  next  morning,  but  had  to  go  to  bed  again.  Then 
happened  a  little  incident  which  brings  before  us  vividly 
his  clinging  and  grateful  memory  of  those  who  had  minis- 
tered by  their  kindness  to  his  suffering  temperament  in  days 
of  trial.     I  relate  it  in  Father  Neville's  own  words  : 

*  A  poor,  an  indigent  person,  a  stranger  to  him,  had  once 
left  for  him  at  the  house  door  a  silk  handkerchief  with  a 
message  of  respect.  This  was  very  many  years  before  he 
was  Cardinal,  and  when  he  seemed,  so  to  speak,  much  set 
aside  ;  at  a  time,  too,  when  he  was  himself  very  poor.  Both 
present  and  message  were  received  by  him  as  they  were 
meant,  and  with  a  solemn  gravity  which  checked  even  a 
smile.  He  kept  the  handkerchief  as  something  he  prized. 
When  he  went  to  bed  expecting  to  die,  he  had  it  brought  to 
him,  and  put  it  on,  and,  though  the  doctors  said  he  might 
as  well  be  without  it,  he  died  with  it  on.  He  had  kept  it 
quite  thirty  years,  even  more.' 

The  Cardinal  received  the  last  Sacraments  on  August  10, 
and  passed  away  at  a  quarter  to  nine  in  the  evening  of 
August  II,  having  been  unconscious  for  most  of  the  day. 
The  funeral  was  at  Rednal  on  the  19th.  He  was  buried 
in  accordance  with  the  instructions  he  had  left,  in  the  grave 
of  his  beloved  friend  Ambrose  St.  John,  and  on  the  pall  was 
his  chosen  motto  '  Cor  ad  cor  loquitur.'  On  the  memorial 
slab  at  his  own  desire  were  engraved  the  words  '  Ex  umbris 
ct  imaginibus  in  veritatem.' 


APPENDICES 


* 


APPENDIX  TO   CHAPTER  XXI 
The  following  is  the  text  of  the  correspondence  referred  to  at  p.  47 : 
MoNSiGNOR  Talbot  to  Dr.  Newman. 

'8  York  Place,  Portman  Square,  London:  July  24,  1864. 

'  My  dear  Dr.  Newman, — I  called  upon  you  yesterday  at  Edgbaston,  and 
was  very  sorry  not  to  find  you  at  home. 

'  One  of  the  reasons  for  which  I  called  upon  you  was  to  invite  you  to  come  to 
Rome  for  next  Lent  to  preach  at  my  Church  in  the  Piazza  del  Popolo,  where  you 
would  have  a  more  educated  audience  of  Protestants  than  could  ever  be  the  case 
in  England,  and  where  they  are  more  open  to  Catholic  influences. 

*  When  I  told  the  Holy  Father  that  I  intended  to  invite  you,  he  highly 
approved  of  my  intention,  and  I  think  myself  that  you  will  derive  great  benefit  from 
revisiting  Rome,  and  again  showing  yourself  to  the  Ecclesiastical  Authorities 
there,  who  are  anxious  to  see  you. 

'  We  shall  have  an  apartment  prepared  for  you  at  the  English  College,  where 
Doctor  Neve  will  be  very  glad  to  receive  you. 

'  I  am  afraid  that  you  may  plead  age  &c.  as  an  excuse  for  not  taking  so  long 
a  journey,  as  some  persons  have  told  me  you  are  likely  to  do,  but  I  feel  convinced 
that  you  are  prepared  to  make  any  sacrifice  when  the  greater  glory  of  God,  and 
the  Salvation  of  Souls  are  concerned,  and  that  you  are  prepared  to  forego  your 
own  comfort,  when  the  high  interests  of  the  Church  are  concerned,  and  you  have 
an  opportunity  to  serve  the  Holy  See. 

'  To  me  it  would  be  a  great  consolation  to  be  able  to  tell  the  Holy  Father  that 
you  have  accepted  my  invitation,  and  I  am  sure  that  the  Blessing  of  the  Vicar  of 
Christ  will  amply  repay  you  for  going  so  far. 

'  Believe  me,  yours  sincerely, 

George  Talbot.' 

Dr.  Newman  to  Monsignor  Talbot. 

'  The  Oratorj',  Birmingham  :  July  25,  1864. 
'  Dear  Monsignore  Talbot,— I  have  received  your  letter,  inviting  me  to  preach 
next  Lent  in  your  Church  at  Rome  to  "an  audience  of  Protestants  more  educated 
than  could  ever  be  the  case  in  England." 

'  However,  Birmingham  people  have  souls  ;  and  I  have  neither  taste  nor 
talent  for  the  sort  of  work  which  you  cut  out  for  me.  And  I  beg  to  decline  your 
oflFer. 

'  I  am,  yours  truly, 

John  H.  Newman.' 


540  LIFE   OF  CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

Dr.  Newman  to  Ambrose  St.  John. 

'The  Oratory:  July  25,  1864. 
'  Monsignor  Talbot  came  on  Saturday  before  I  returned.  Only  Austin  saw 
him.  William  was  sulky  at  his  name.  Edward  said  he  would  not  go  to  any  of 
those  bumptious  Romans.  He  sat  and  talked  with  Austin  in  the  boy's  Refectory. 
He  asked  what  I  thought  of  Catholic  boys  going  to  Oxford.  He  was  quite 
against  it,  but  the  Catholic  gentry  were  "worldly."  He  wished  me  to  preach 
some  Lent  sermons  at  Rome.  Austin  said  I  preached  here,  but  he  said  "Oh, 
but  this  is  a  very  different  thing ;  educated  people  "  &c.  What  is  Brummagem 
to  Monsignor  Talbot  but  a  region  of  snobs?  yet  souls  are  souls,  your  Right 
Reverence.  He  went  on  to  ask  what  I  did;  did  I  read?  Austin  said  he  did 
not  know  ;  but  he  saw  me  take  out  books  from  the  Library.' 

The  following  is  the  text  of  the  "  questions  "  concerning  higher  educa- 
tion for  English  Catholics  referred  to  at  p.  66,  and  of  Mr.  Gaisford's 
reply  to  them  in  a  letter  to  Dr.  Grant,  Bishop  of  Southwark  : 

'  December  4th,  1S64. 

'  I.  Is  there  anything  in  the  English  University  education,  which  it  seems  to 
you  impossible,  or  very  difficult,  to  give  in  our  Catholic  Colleges,  by  any 
practicable  addition  to,  or  variation  of  their  present  system  or  condition  ?  Please 
to  state  in  what  it  consists. 

'  2.  What  would  you  say  is  the  exact  meaning  of  scholarship  as  the  peculiar 
characteristic  of  University  education  ? 

'  3.  What  are  the  studies  in  which  a  Catholic  youth  going  to  a  Protestant 
University  would  be  engaged  during  his  course  in  it  ? 

'  4.  Would  he  acquire  a  greater  knowledge  than  he  could  in  a  [Catholic] 
College  : 

(a)  of  modern  languages,  as  French,  Italian,  and  German  ? 

[b)  of  foreign  literature  ? 

\c)  of  history,  geography,  art,  and  other  general  subjects  of  information  ? 

« 5.  Have  you  observed  or  heard  on  any  good  authority  that  in  competitive 
examination,  according  to  proportion  of  numbers,  the  Catholics  have  fallen  below 
Protestant  aspirants,  whether  in  military  or  administrative  competition  ? 

'  6.   Has  it  similarly  come  under  your  notice  that,  attending  to  ratio  of  numbers 
at  the  Bar,  from  the  Bench  downwards,   or  in  any  other  learned    profession 
persons  brought  up  in  a  University  have  shewn  a  decisive  superiority  over  those 
educated  in  Catholic  establishments  ? 

*  7.  Putting  aside  all  questions  of  tone  and  manner,  and  considering  the 
average  of  young  men  who  annually  go  into  the  world  from  the  University  and  of 
those  who  finish  their  studies  exclusively  among  Catholics,  does  any  superiority 
in  solid  learning  and  good  education  manifest  itself  in  the  first  above  the  second  ? 

'  8.  Supposing  a  young  Catholic,  whose  education  had  been  carried  on  in  one 
of  our  Colleges  to  the  extent  professed  to  be  taught  there,  were  to  go  for  three 
years  to  a  Protestant  University,  in  what  respect  and  to  what  extent  do  you  sup- 
pose that  his  education  would  be  found  advanced  and  his  character  better  formed  ? 

'  9.  And  more  specifically,  do  you  consider  that  the  chances  of  improvement 
in  moral  and  religious  condition  would  be  increased  during  that  interval,  and  that 
the  probability  is  that  he  would  be  found  better  grounded  in  faith,  in  piety,  and 
moral  feeling,  at  the  end  than  he  was  at  the  beginning  of  that  term  ? 

'  10.  Considering  the  present  condition  of  belief  in  the  truths  of  revelation 
among  leading  minds  in  the  Universities,  do  you  think  that  the  intercourse  natural 


APPENDICES  541 

between  the  learned  and  able  men  of  the  University,  with  younger  minds  and 
inexperienced  scholars,  would  not  necessarily  weaken  the  faith  in  these  ? 

*  II.  Would  it  be  possible,  not  to  say  expedient,  to  guard  such  impressionable 
minds,  especially  where  there  was  an  ardour  for  learning,  by  weakening  or 
destroying  all  confidence  on  the  part  of  youth  in  those  whom  they  are  otherwise 
expected  to  respect  and  submit  their  judgment  to? 

'  12.  Why  is  the  demand  in  favour  of  University  education,  according  to  your 
way  of  viewing  it,  to  be  limited  to  the  laity  ? 

•  13.  If  there  be  a  higher,  a  nobler,  and  a  more  useful  education  to  be  attained 
at  a  University  than  can  possibly  be  given  in  a  Catholic  College  (unless  such 
College  is  established  in  a  Protestant  University),  why  should  the  Clergy  be 
deprived  in  England  alone  of  those  signal  advantages  ? 

'  14.  Ought  the  principle  to  be  admitted  that  the  laity  should  be  more  highly 
educated  than  their  clergy,  considering  the  reproaches  too  readily  cast  on  the  latter 
for  lagging  in  the  progress  of  knowledge  and  solid  attainments  ? 

'  15.  May  it  not  be  justly  considered  (i)  that  if  no  danger  of  loss  of  faith  or 
morals  exists  for  a  layman,  a  fortiori  there  can  be  none  for  an  Ecclesiastic  ? 
(2)  that  the  mixture  of  virtuous  and  fervent  Ecclesiastical  scholars  will  sustain  and 
encourage  their  former  College  companions? 

*  16.  Is  it  not  true  that,  although  we  treat  the  Universities  as  though  great 
national  institutions  for  lay  education,  they  are  no  less,  or  perhaps  in  the  main, 
the  Protestant  substitutes  for  Ecclesiastical  Seminaries,  and  form  in  reality  the 
places  in  which  all  the  clergy  of  the  Church  of  England  are  educated  ?  Are  not 
all  the  Archbishops  and  Bishops  of  England  and  in  great  measure  of  Ireland,  all 
the  dignitaries,  certainly  of  England,  and  the  vast  bulk  of  the  parochial  clergy  of 
the  Established  Church  educated  there  ;  and  has  not  the  fruit  of  such  education 
been  on  the  whole  to  produce  a  clergy  most  hostile  in  feeling  and  most  heterodox 
in  doctrine  in  their  attitude  towards  the  Catholic  Church  ? 

'  17.  Do  you  think  that,  such  being  the  case,  it  would  be  worthy  of  the 
Catholic  Church  and  its  pastors,  believing  themselves  to  be  under  the  guidance  of 
the  Holy  Spirit,  to  surrender  the  highest  education  of  their  children,  or  of  their 
Ecclesiastical  students,  to  the  teaching  and  guiding  of  such  a  body  of  men  ? 

'18.  Is  not  the  great  teaching  body  of  the  University  composed  of  Protestant, 
consequently  heretical,  clergymen  ;  and  do  you  think  that  the  Bishops  ought  to 
advise  the  Holy  See  to  commit  the  final  training,  and  the  finishing  touch  of  the 
formation  of  mind  and  heart  of  the  children  of  God's  people,  to  the  hands  of  those 
who  have  publicly  declared  and  professed  to  hold  that  belief  in  the  most  solemn 
and  consoling  doctrines,  and  observance  of  the  most  beautiful  practices  of  devotion 
in  the  Church,  arc  damnable  and  idolatrous  ? 

'19.  Or  do  you  think  it  possible  for  a  professor  or  teacher  holding  the  Holy 
Catholic  Church  in  contempt,  and  perhaps  execration,  from  day  to  day  to  lecture 
upon  even  indifferent  topics  without  almost  involuntarily  allowing  his  feelings  to 
escape  from  any  amount  of  watchful  guardedness,  and  insinuate  themselves  int^ 
the  susceptible  minds  or  imaginations  of  a  few  unnoticed  Catholic  pupils  ? 

•  20.  On  the  whole,  after  considering  all  these  questions  and  the  answers 
which  you  have  no  doubt  conscientiously  given  them  in  the  presence  of  God, 
looking  at  the  whole  state  of  Europe  and  of  England,  and  weighing  in  the 
balance  of  the  Sanctuary  the  opinions,  political,  scientific,  social,  and  moral,  in 
conflict  through  the  world,  do  you  believe  lliat  should  a  consideral)le  body  of 
young  Catholics  receive  education  in  Protestant  Universities,  the  result  will 
be  the  formation  of  a  future  Catholic  body  more  conscientious,  more  orthodox, 


542  LIFE   OF  CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

more  religious,  more  devout,  and  more  pure  than  we  can  obtain  by  any  other 
process  of  education  ?  And  that  should  the  decision  be  now  in  favour  of 
Protestant  University  education,  our  successors,  and  the  future  heads  of  Catholic 
families,  will  feel  thankful  to  God  and  believe  that  His  Providence  has  guided 
and  blessed  the  decision  ?  ' 

Mr.  Gaisford  to  the  Bishop  of  Southwark. 

'  December  nth,  1864. 

'  The  Dublin  Review  in  an  article  given  to  Dr.  Manning  objects  to 
Oxford  on  the  ground  that  it  would  "  indefinitely  postpone  all  efforts  towards 
founding  purely  Catholic  Colleges  for  higher  lay  education."  I  answer  that  my 
wants  are  pressing  and  that  the  foundation  of  a  College  takes  years.  I  consider 
myself  responsible  that  my  son  shall  be  brought  up  first  as  a  Catholic  Christian, 
secondly  as  an  English  gentleman,  and  though  I  hope  that  I  am  ready  to  take 
advice  from  wiser  men,  I  decline  to  shift  my  responsibility  on  anyone. 

'  I  will  now  make  a  few  remarks  upon  some  of  the  printed  questions. 

'  Question  2.  I  am  no  scholar  myself,  but,  being  asked  to  define  the  word 
"Scholarship"  I  should  say  that  a  good  Greek  Scholar  is  one  who  has  an 
accurate  and  critical  knowledge  of  Greek— I  believe  that  the  term  is  applied  at 
Oxford  exclusively  to  Greek  and  Latin,  and  I  think  that  the  Catholic  Seminaries 
are  inferior  in  Scholarship  to  Oxford.  Much  has  been  done  for  Greek  literature 
in  this  century,  by  Porson,  Bloomfield,  Maltby,  and  others, — my  own  father 
among  them,  but  I  know  of  no  English  Catholic  who  has  contributed. 

'4.  In  modern  languages,  foreign  literature,  history,  &c.,  I  daresay  Oscott  is 
not  inferior. 

'  5  &  6,  I  have  not  watched  the  competitive  examinations,  but  I  know  of  no 
leading  English  Catholic  Barrister. 

•  7.  I  cannot  put  aside  tone  and  manner. 

'  8.  He  would  gain  a  knowledge  of  the  world  (I  use  the  term  in  a  good  sense). 
His  character  would  be  better  disciplined  by  being  thrown  in  a  large  society,  he 
would  have  better  choice  of  friends  with  whom  he  would  live  hereafter  and  with 
whom  I  should  wish  him  to  live.  My  own  Oxford  friends  have  always  stood  by 
me.  There  is  no  doubt  that  Catholic  young  men  make  a  bad  show  in  London 
society;  at  the  best  clubs  they  were  pretty  sure  to  be  blackballed,  and  why? 
Not  on  religious  grounds.  What  does  the  Travellers'  Club  care  for  a  man's 
religious  opinions?  Nothing, — but  it  knows  that  the  Catholics  are  exclusively 
educated,  have  little  in  common  with  its  other  members,  and  would  be  a  bore, 
and  so  they  are  rejected,  and  rightly.  London  ladies  say  the  same  :  "Excellent 
young  man,  but  a  bore  ;  we  don't  know  what  to  say  to  him,  nor  he  to  us." 
Catholic  gentlemen  are  now  more  numerous  and  I  want  to  see  them  take  their 
proper  position  in  the  world,  and  I  believe  that  the  prejudices  against  our  religion 
would  rapidly  diminish  if  we  were  better  known  and  mixed  more  freely  with  our 
equals. 

'  9.  I  see  no  reason  why  at  Oxford  he  should  be  less  well  grounded  in  faith  — 
the  Oratorian  Fathers  would  see  to  this. 

'II.  What  is  to  become  of  my  son  at  18  if  he  does  not  go  to  Oxford? 
There  must  always  be  danger  to  him,  and  I  think  he  runs  less  risk  at  Oxford 
than  elsewhere  ;  the  bane  of  the  old  Catholics  has  been  lying  about  idle  at  their 
parents'  houses,  or  lounging  on  the  Continent  to  pass  the  time  between  boyhood 
and  manhood. 


APPENDICES  543 

*  12,  13,  14,  15.  I  give  no  opinion  on  education  of  the  clergy,  but  if  it  be 
thought  inexpedient  that  they  should  go  to  Oxford  and  that  therefore  their 
education  may  be  inferior,  I  don't  see  why  the  laity  should  be  under-educated 
because  the  clergy  can't  have  equal  advantages. 

'  16.  Yes,  but  though  the  Protestant  clergy  are  hostile,  I  don't  think  they 
despise  or  execrate  our  religion — there  are  exceptions  however. 

*  19.  I  should  not  consider  a  youth's  faith  endangered  by  attending  an  Oxford 
Professor's  lectures  on  indifferent  subjects. 

'  20.  I  expect  great  advantages  from  Oxford.  This  question  would  have  been 
fairer  if  put  thus  :  "With  these  advantages  would  the  future  Catholic  be  likely  to 
be  less  conscientious,  less  orthodox,  &c.  ?  "     I  answer  *'  No." 

'  And  now,  my  dear  Lord,  I  ask  your  pardon  if  I  have  written  too  openly  ; 
I  thought  over  your  questions  most  seriously,  but  I  have  written  my  answer 
currente  calaiiio,  my  only  object  being  that  you  should  know  just  what  I  think 
on  the  subject.' 


APPENDIX    TO    CHAPTER    XXIV 

Extract  from  the  Weekly  Register,  April  6,  1867,  referred  to  at 
p.  140. 

Our  Roman  Letter. 

'  Rome  :  March  28. 
•  •••••• 

'  I  cannot,  of  course,  help  alluding  to  what  is  a  subject  of  common  conversation 
in  those  ecclesiastical  circles  here  which  are  interested  in  the  progress  of  Catholicism 
in  England.  I  should  hesitate  to  do  so  but  for  the  fact  that  a  correspondent  has 
the  duty  of  caring  for  nothing  but  offences  against  good  taste  and  violations  ot 
secresy.  I  do  so,  however,  the  more  readily  because  there  are  sure  to  be  a  dozen 
reports  about  it  in  England,  and  because  I  have  it  in  my  power  to  put  together 
what  I  have  collected  from  more  sources  than  one.  When  the  Bishop  of  Birming- 
ham applied  to  the  Propaganda  respecting  the  mission  of  a  high  class  at  Oxford, 
the  Congregation  of  Cardinals  considered  the  project  with  every  wish  to  approve 
a  scheme  which  had  already  been  known  to  be  a  desire  of  the  Metropolitan.  At 
this  particular  time,  however,  his  Grace  neither  interfered  directly  nor  indirectly, 
and  I  can  safely  say  that  the  previous  expression  of  his  wish  had  been  limited 
strictly  to  the  very  natural  desire — common  to  his  Grace  with  all  good  English 
Catholics  -that  Oxford  and  Cambridge  should  be  the  seats  of  energetic  missions. 
What  the  Bishop  of  Birmingham's  application  really  amounted  to  does  not  seem 
to  have  been  perceived  by  more  than  one  Cardinal  of  the  Congregation,  who, 
knowing  English  matters  rather  intimately,  expressed  the  need  for  a  very  guarded 
consent  to  the  application.  As  Cardinal  Barnabo  has  with  his  own  lips  declared 
that  the  question  of  Dr.  Newman's  going  to  Oxford  was  not  the  question  that  came 
before  the  Propaganda,  I  presume  that  there  must  be  every  credit  given  to  his 
statement.  The  Congregation  did  not,  therefore,  find  it  necessary  to  limit  the 
consent  in  a  matter  which  might  not  enter  into  the  meaning  of  the  application  ;  but 
the  result  of  this  consent  has  been  the  entrusting  of  the  new  mission  to  Dr.  Newman. 
The  Catholic  Press  has  been  busily  occupied  with  this  matter,  and  the  Holy  Father 
is  well  accjuainted  with  what  is  going  on  in  England,  as  are  the  Cardinals  of  the 
Propaganda,  more  than  one  of  whom  reads  English  newspapers.     And,  the  Holy 


544  LIFE   OF   CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

Father,  knowing  in  what  results  this  consent  of  the  Congregation  was  likely  to  issue, 

has  thought  right  to  override  the  consent  of  the  Congregation,  and  to  inhibit  the 

proposed  mission  of  Dr.  Newman.     It  is  almost  needless  to  say— for  anyone  who 

knows  the  prevailing  spirit  of  Rome— that  this  distinguished  man  has  no  longer  in 

Roman  opinion,  the  high  place  he  once  held.     It  could  hardly  be  otherwise,  after 

the  sermon  on  the  Temporal  Power,  certain  passages  of  the  "  Apologia,"  and  the 

having  allowed  his  great  name  to  l)e  linked  with  that  of  one  of  the  bitterest  haters 

of  Rome  in  the  dedication  of  Mr.  Oxenham's  translation  of  Dr.  Dollinger's  "  First 

Ages  of  the  Church."     Now,  when  the  Church  is  tossed  about  as  it  is,  and  when 

Germanising  is  its  deadliest  danger,  the  mere  shadow  of  a  suspicion  of  Germanising, 

however  unfounded,  please  God,  it  may  really  be,  could  hardly  save  any  man, 

however   great   and   illustrious  as  a  Catholic,  from    having   confidence   in   him 

greatly  shaken.     The  decision  of  the  Holy  Father  does  not,  however,  amount  to 

more  than  this.     Good  soldier  of  the  faith  as  Dr.  Newman  has  been,  and  devoted 

Catholic  as  he  still  doubtless  is,  a  mission  of  so  delicate  a  nature  as  that  proposed 

for  Oxford  could  not  safely  be  entrusted  to  one  who  has  compromised  himself  in 

the  opinion  of  Rome  by  certain  statements,  and  who,  though  no  doubt  undeservedly, 

is  leaned  upon  by  the  Germanising  school  of  younger  Catholics  in  England  as  their 

strongest  staff.     Only  an  Ultramontane  without  a  taint  in  his  fidelity  could  enter 

such  an  arena  as  that  of  Oxford  life  with  results  to  the  advantage  of  the  faith  in 

England. 

'  Much  will,  no  doubt,  be  said  about  this  in  England.  The  Anglican  papers  of 
the  mosquito  or  flea  tribe,  such  as  the  Church  Times  and  the  Church  Review  and 
gnats  of  the  Union  Review  school,  will,  no  doubt,  make  a  great  commotion,  and 
be  very  ready— for  Anglicans  of  the  advanced  school  love  slander  as  Mrs.  Gamp 
loves  her  bottle— to  throw  the  blame  on  a  very  illustrious  personage.  It  is  not  for 
me  to  be  so  impertinent  as  to  vindicate  beforehand  that  unflinching  leader  of  the 
Church  in  England  ;  all  I  may  do  is  to  deny,  point  blank,  that  that  illustrious 
personage  had  directly  or  indirectly  had  anything  to  do  with  it.  Failing  this 
accusation,  they  will  probably  have  recourse  to  another.  It  will  be  said  that  the 
distinguished  prelate  who,  with  so  much  credit  to  his  country,  represents  Catholic 
England  at  the  Papal  Court,  had  had  the  ear  of  the  Holy  Father  in  this  matter. 
The  objection  is  in  substance  as  old  as  the  oldest  heresy.  Everywhere  have  heretics 
profanely  said,  that  they  appeal  from  Rome  drunk  to  Rome  sober.  Unhappily  Dr. 
Newman  himself  has  said  what  comes  to  the  same  thing  in  the  "  Apologia  "  having 
in  mind,  one  may  believe,  a  miserable  calumny  of  Dr.  Dollinger.  But  pcue  these 
people,  great  or  little,  one  may  say  that  there  are,  as  there  have  ever  been,  thousands 
of  Catholics,  as  well  distinguished  as  not  distinguished,  who,  when  the  Shepherd 
of  the  Church  so  speaks  and  decides,  look,  and  have  ever  looked,  upon  such  utter- 
ances as  warnings  to  save  the  faithful  from  pastures  which,  however  fair  they  may 
appear,  may  be  in  certain  circumstances  only  a  kind  of  poison.  At  any  rate,  on  a 
road  along  which  it  is  very  easy  to  get  fast  in  a  bog  or  to  fall  over  a  precipice,  it 
is  better  for  poor,  simple  men,  to  follow  one  St.  Austin,  or  one  St.  Bernard,  or 
one  St.  Alphonsus,  in  childlike  faith,  than  a  whole  army  of  Dr.  DoUingers.' 

On  the  Address  to  Newman  from  the  laity  wliich  the  above  letter 
called  forth,  Newman  writes  as  follows  to  Mr.  F.  R.  Ward  : 

'April  26,  1867. 
'.  .  .  Iquiterecognise  what  you  sayofits  indirect  effect  — and  that  effect,  though 
in  another  way,  is  as  satisfactory  as  the  demonstration  of  kindness  and  confidence 
made  to  mc  personally.     It  is  intolerable  that  we  should  be  placed  at  the  mercy 


APPENDICES  545 

of  a  secret  tribunal,  which  dares  to  speak  in  the  name  of  the  Pope,  and  would 
institute,  if  it  could,  a  regime  of  espionage,  denunciation  and  terrorism.  But  the 
danger  is  as  great  as  the  evil  is  intolerable,  and  I  trust  that  the  Address  will  have  the 
effect  of  throwing  back  its  aggressive  action,  though  I  do  not  for  an  instant  think 
that  one  repulse  will  put  an  end  to  it.  What  we  want  is  an  organ  ;  it  is  grievous 
that  we  have  hitherto  failed  in  gaining  one.  The  Chronicle  threw  off  ill,  and  is 
not  Catholic  enough  in  its  composition  to  be  a  Catholic  organ.  But  that  it  has 
formed  an  alliance  with  Protestant  writers  has  been  simply  because  it  could  not 
form  for  itself  a  strong  and  broad  basis  enough  among  Catholics.  Any  how,  one 
may  lament  that  the  common  feehngs  of  the  body  of  English  Catholics  have  no 
representative  in  the  periodical  press. ' 

When  asked  in  this  same  year  for  advice  as  to  young  Catholics  going 
to  Oxford,  Newman  wrote  as  follows  : 

'  Dec.  8,  1867. 

'  In  answer  to  your  question  whether  a  parent  can  send  a  son  to  Oxford  without 
sin,  I  can  but  say  that  no  general  rule  can  be  given,  and  that  it  depends  on  the 
particular  case.  When  you  ask  how  you  should  determine  about  your  own  boy, 
I  will  tell  you  just  what  I  feel. 

'Against  your  sending  him  lie  the  following  weighty  reasons  : 

'  I.  The  Holy  See  has  spoken  as  strongly  as  it  could  speak  on  the  danger  of 
sending  youths  to  Oxford.  As  to  the  trickery  which  has  been  employed  in 
gaining  that  decision  I  don't  see  that  that  invalidates  the /r/wa/aae  force  of  it. 
The  Pope  speaks  in  a  matter,  which,  as  the  rescript  says,  is  entirely  within  his 
province — for  he  is  speaking  of  occasions  of  mortal  sin,  and  danger  of  eternal 
salvation. 

'2.  We  must  recollect  St.  Paul's  strong  words,  "Obey  them  that  have  the 
rule  over  you  .  ,  .  and  submit  yourselves,  for  they  watch  for  your  souls  as  those 
w-ho  must  give  account." 

'  3.  There  is  a  certain  instinct  which  the  Church  (and  the  Holy  See  as  being 
its  executive)  has,  which  is  ever  to  be  taken  into  account  as  something  over  and 
above  and  independent  of  the  imperfection  of  the  human  organs  and  ministers. 
The  chance  is  that  it  will  turn  out  right,  even  when  very  bad  means  have  been 
used  in  the  course  of  its  action. 

'4.  Then,  for  my  own  judgment,  what  made  me  so  willing  that  the  Oratory 
should  go  to  Oxford,  except  that  I  thought  the  position  of  young  Catholics  there 
perilous  unless  there  were  some  strong  religious  community  entrusted  with  the 
Mission  ? 

'  5.  A  new  point  is  introduced  by  the  very  fact  of  the  serious  ecclesiastical 
dissuasive.  A  boy  of  tender  conscience  goes  there  knowing  his  being  there 
is  unrecognised,  disliked  by  the  Holy  See  and  his  Bishops.  This  is  a  bad  start 
in  life  for  him.  Is  it  not  likely  to  harm  his  faith,  temper  of  obedience,  ever 
afterwards  ? 

'6.  Whoever  sends  his  son  to  Oxford,  is  responsible  for  the  example  and 
precedent  which  he  sets  for  others. 

'  Fully  as  I  feel  these  considerations,  I  do  not  deny  there  may  be  extraordinary 
cases  which  would  oblige  me  in  the  confessional  to  allow  that  it  was  no  sin  in  a 
particular  father  sending  a  particular  youth  to  Oxford. 

'  r.  There  may  be  a  choice  of  difficulties :— e.g.  Woolwich  or  London  may 
be  a  worse  place  for  a  boy's  faith  and  morals  than  Oxford — yet  the  alternative 
may  be  between  one  and  the  other. 

VOL.  II.  N  N 


546  LIFE   OF   CARDINAL   NEWMAN 


< . 


'  2.  It  may  be  an  alternative  between  diligence,  a  cheerful  obedience  at 
Oxford,  and  idleness,  or  despondency  and  disappointment,  if  [a  boy  is]  refused 
[leave]  to  go  there. 

'  Other  cases  are  supposable,  in  which  I  should  boldly  take  on  myself  the 
responsibility  of  recommending  a  youth  to  be  sent  to  Oxford. 

'  As  the  Bishops  take  up  a  very  [important]  part  in  dissuading,  so  a  priest  in  the 
confessional  can  but  allow.  Vou  must  be  the  decider.  As  to  your  boy,  I  do  not 
at  present  know  enough  of  him,  to  say  that  his  case  would  be  thus  exceptional 
— though  I  fear  there  would  be  great  difliculty  in  making  him  work  if  he  does 
not  go. 

«J.  H.  N.' 


APPENDIX   TO    CHAPTER   XXV 

The  following  letters  should  be  read  with  those  cited  in  the  text  of 
this  chapter  : 

F.  Ambrose  St.  John  to  Dr.  Newman. 

'  May  1867. 

'  I  said  Mass  yesterday  at  S.  Ignazio,  and  then  went  straight  to  Father 
Perrone,  whom  I  found  in  the  Library.  He,  like  them  all,  began  preaching 
against  mixed  education  as  though  you  were  an  Apostle  of  it,  forsooth  !  This  is 
the  fourth  person,  (he  also  a  Consultor  of  Propaganda)  who  has  held  forth  to  me 
on  the  subject,  and  the  dear,  good  Pope,  with  his  most  truly  kind  and  loving 
countenance,  (there  was  not  a  fraction  of  sharpness  about  him)  did  the  same ;  so 
that  I  cannot  help  feeling  it  is  a  very  disagreeable  repetition. 

'  When  then  Father  Perrone  stopped,  I  told  him  I  had  had  all  that  before, 
and  having  now  seen  the  Pope  I  hoped  there  was  an  end  of  it,  for  it  was  altogether 
a  false  report.  I  also  laid  it  on  to  Propaganda,  and  said  it  was  not  fair  to  say  the 
Bishop  was  in  fault.  Propaganda  was  in  fault  for  granting  a  leave  which  was 
wholly  nugatory.  He  said  he  hoped  you  would  found  an  Oratory  at  Oxford 
though  you  did  not  go  yourself.  This,  I  said,  I  thought  very  improbable,  but, 
waiving  that  subject  which  had  been  abundantly  discussed  elsewhere,  I  had  come 
to  ask  his  advice  about  what  I  had  heard  in  two  quarters  respecting  the  Rmiibler. 
He  said  he  knew  all  about  it.  He  had  read  the  passage  (he  did  not  say  he  had 
been  consulted  upon  it)  and  thought  he  recollected  it.  He  said  you  had  seemed 
to  say  that  there  were  times  when  the  true  doctrine  lay  only  in  the  people, — this 
was  depriving  the  Church  of  her  function  as  a  teacher.  I  said  I  was  sure  you 
meant  no  such  thing  as  that,  but  were  engaged  mainly  upon  an  historical  view  of 
the  matter,  and  were  saying  only  what  Baronius  had  said,  but  I  said  I  would 
rather  not  attempt  myself  to  speak  on  the  subject.  "What  would  you,  a  friend 
who  knows  Father  Newman  to  be  sound  in  doctrine  at  heart,  have  him  do  ?  " 
He  said  :  "Take  occasion  to  write  on  some  other  subject,  and  bring  this  in  and 
explain  the  controverted  passages."  This,  I  said,  would  never  do.  You  would, 
by  so  doing,  only  expose  yourself  to  fresh  misunderstanding.  It  would  be  like 
attacking  an  enemy  in  the  dark.  When  there  had  been  reports  before,  I  knew 
you  over  and  over  again  expressed  your  readiness  to  answer  any  questions  plainly  ; 
that  you  ought  to  have  the  passages  put  before  you  with  plain  statements  like  : 


APPENDICES  547 

"this  is  wrong,  and  must  be  retracted."  "This  may  be  misunderstood,  and 
must  be  explained."  Then  you  would  know  what  to  do.  Would  he  extract  for 
me  such  passages?  Ves,  he  would,  and  if  you  would  send  your  answers  to  him, 
/id  would  settle  the  matter  by  saying :  "  I  guarantee  Father  Newman's  faith  to 
be  sound  in  the  matter  in  question."  This  he  said  would  be  quite  sufficient. 
"  Well,  then,"  I  went  on  to  say,  "  would  he  as  Consultor  of  Propaganda  undertake 
to  plead  Father  Newman's  cause  there."  Then  he  looked  cunning,  and  said  that 
was  not  the  way  to  do  things  there.  They  would  say:  "  You  have  been  put  up 
to  this,  and  come  as  a  petitioner  for  your  friend,"  and  would  look  with  suspicion 
on  what  he  said.  Let  me  have  something  to  say,  and  let  them  come  to  me,  then 
I  shall  have  so  much  more  weight  as  being  consulted  than  as  a  petitioner.  So 
the  matter  ended,  and  I  am  to  borrow  for  him  the  Kaiiibler.  Talbot  has  one, 
but  I  cannot  ask  him.  I  must  go  and  try.  Perrone  said  I  should  find  one  at  the 
Scotch  College.  I  have  not  yet  had  time  to  ask.  Then  after  breakfast  I  went  to 
Cardinal  de  Luca,  the  ablest  (so  to  say)  of  all  the  Cardinals,  with  the  best  chance 
of  being  (so  it  is  said)  the  next  Pope.  He  reads  English,  has  a  great  admiration 
of  your  writings,  and  no  one  can  make  him  a  partisan.  This  is  Neve's  account. 
Well,  he  is  a  small  man  with  a  most  intelligent  eye  which  goes  through  you  and 
makes  you  at  home  at  once.  Unlike  everybody  else,  when  I  came  in,  he  didn't 
preach,  listened  most  attentively  to  all  I  had  to  say,  asked  a  great  many  questions 
about  Oxford,  about  examinations  for  London,  Woolwich,  &c.,  expressed  his 
sympathy  for  parents  with  sons,  and  then  I  told  him  the  state  of  parties  at 
Oxford,  what  you  might  do ;  how  you  had  Ijeen  misunderstood  and  your 
charitable  love  of  souls  turned  against  you,  and  I  mentioned  the  newspaper 
report,  &c.  "  Yes,"  he  said,  "  I  know  all  about  that.  Who  is  that  Martin  ? ' 
Is  he  an  oblate?"  "No,"  I  said,  "  I  believe  not, — a  Deacon  studying  here  by 
himself  in  Rome."  "Oh."  Then  he  began  to  ask  questions.  "  What  could  be 
done  ?  Could  a  College  be  founded  in  Oxford  for  Catholic  students  with 
Catholic  Professors  ?  "  I  mentioned  the  difficulty  you  apprehended,  at  the  same 
time  saying  generally  that  I  was  most  grateful  to  His  Eminence  for  really  entering 
into  the  difficulties  of  education  in  England,  and  I  would  take  the  liberty  of 
reading  to  him  your  opinion.  So  I  pulled  out  the  Italian  translation  of  your 
opinion  about  Oxford  Education,  saying  I  had  the  original  in  your  writing.  He 
at  once  pounced  on  the  original  and  said  :  "  I  prefer  this.  I  read  English."  So 
I  left  it  with  him.  Pie  asked  if  I  knew  anything  of  the  German  Universities, 
mentioning  Bresiau  (I  remember  now).  I  then  spoke  of  Bonn,  said  what  the 
Jesuits  had  done,  &c.  "  Ah,"  he  said,  "  you  ought  to  inform  yourself  thoroughly 
about  Bonn.  There  is  a  Jesuit  Father — Father  Bozzio — here  from  Bonn ; 
you  ought  to  go  to  him  and  find  out  all  about  it."  I  said  :  "  If  ii  was  any  good 
I  would  go  home  by  Bonn."  He  said  it  would  be  very  important  to  inform 
myself  about  the  matter  and  to  write  to  him  and  lay  proposals  before  him. 
"  Something,"  he  said,  "  must  be  done,  and  as  to  a  Catholic  University,  it  was 
an  absurdity  in  the  present  state  of  things.  But,"  he  said,  "  I  must  warn  you  of 
one  thing  ;  the  Holy  See  will  never  act  against  the  wishes  of  the  Episcopate  of  a 
country."  I  said  I  feared  the  Archbishop  would  always  be  contrario  to  any- 
thing whatever  connected  with  Oxford.  He  thought  he  would  not  be  unreason- 
able, and  for  himself  he  saw  nothing  better  than  a  Catholic  College.  There 
would  be  difficulties,  but  difficulties  must  be  faced.  Would  P'ather  Newman  take 
any  part  in  it  ?    I  said  "you  had  been  so  [misunderstood]  in  what  you  had  already 

'  Mr.   Martin,  who   had    divulged   the    'secret    instruction'  in    the    Weekly 
Register ,  vide  supra,  p.  140. 

N  N  2 


s 


548  LIFE   OF   CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

done  I  hardly  thought  you  would."  "  Oh,"  he  said,  "you  must  have  courage. 
What  had  happened  had  done  you  no  harm  at  all."  After  many  more  very  kind 
words  we  parted,  I  to  see  Father  Bozzio  and  talk  to  him  about  Bonn,— he  to  read 
and  meditate  on  your  opinion.  Meanwhile  I  think  to  myself  •'  Cui  bono  ?  "  Here 
is  a  friend,  a  high  friend,  a  clever  friend.  But  what  can  he  do  ?  He  is  one  and 
everybody  else  is  the  other  way.  He  says  as  an  initiatory  step  you  must  gain 
Manning  !  !  ! ' 

Father  Ambrose  St.  John  to  Dr.  Newman. 

'  May  loth,  1S67. 
'  Dearest  Father,— What  a  time  letters  take.  We  have  as  yet  no  answer  to 
all  our  letters  and  conversations  with  this  and  that  Eminenza.  I  am  afraid  now  of 
going  too  far,  and  you  must  spend  a  telegram  upon  me  if  you  want  me  to  act,  for 
I  feel  I  cannot  get  on  without  distinct  orders  from  you.  Father  Perrone  says  the 
way  to  clear  up  the  i'?a;«/V£;;- matter  is  for  me  to  go  to  Cardinal  Barnabo,  who 
made  the  accusation  de  novo  to  me,  and  say  :  "  Will  your  Eminence  let  me  have  the 
incriminated  passages?"  Then,  having  got  them,  I  send  them  to  you.  Father 
Perrone  in  the  meantime  is  looking  over  the  article  with  an  English-speaking 
Father,  and  will  send  you  such  passages  as  he  thinks  require  explanation,  and 
will  also  send  you  what  he  thinks  the  explanation  ought  to  be.  Then  you  will 
write  your  explanations  to  Propaganda,  Propaganda  will  appeal  to  Perrone,  who 
will  then  pronounce  upon  them.  This  will  settle  the  whole  matter.  Perrone  i^ 
very  anxious  to  keep  it  quiet  that  he  is  doing  this  for  you,  for  if  it  gets  out  he  will 
be  considered  as  your  friend,  and  then  they  would  not  consult  him  as  being 
biassed  by  his  friendship  for  you.  Perrone  says  (just  looking  over  the  Article 
with  me)  that  he  thinks  in  one  sense  your  words  are  true  and  in  another  false. 
The  faithful  never  (properly  speaking)  teach,  they  are  merely  a  living  record  of  a 
tradition  taught  them.  He  repeated  this  many  times.  Well  then,  I  said  (to  find 
out  his  meaning  clearly),  there  may  be  times  or  countries  where  the  actual  teachers 
were  for  some  reason  silent  or  taught  falsely ;  and  then  a  private  Christian  would  in 
those  times  keep  his  faith  on  the  tradition  of  the  faithful.  No,  he  said,  that  is 
not  the  right  way  to  put  it,  the  teachers  always  taught  the  truth  and  were 
known  by  Catholics  to  teach  the  truth,  but  from  a  kind  of  policy— he  used  the 
word  "politica,"  then  rejected  it  and  flourished  his  hand  in  the  air,  and  made  me 
understand  there  were  reasons  why  they  did  not  uphold  Catholic  doctrine.  He 
mentioned  St.  Cyril,  who  never  once  uses  the  word  "  consubstantial  "  or  speaks 
in  terms  against  the  Arians  and  yet  was  the  great  defender  of  the  true  faith.  .  . 
lie  said  Father  Newman  when  he  has  written  on  these  questions  looks  at  them 
not  as  wc  who  have  been  brought  up  in  the  Catholic  Faith  from  our  childhood. 
He  meant,  I  think,  you  viewed  them  (though  with  the  best  intentions)  historically, 
as  a  person  not  wholly  in  the  secret  would  do.  Then  he  took  me  to  Father 
Cardella.  He  wailed  till  Perrone  was  out  of  the  room  and  then  said  :  "  I  don't 
like  to  say  it  before  him,  but  I  don't  agree  with  him  in  his  view  of 
the  Article."  He  (Cardella)  was  extremely  indignant  it  should  have  been 
brought  up  again— he  said  that  it  was  raking  out  buried  matters  ;  then  he  said  : 
"  I  wrote  some  notes  at  the  time  in  defence  of  Father  Newman's  view,  in  answer 
to  Franzelin  (the  Jesuits'  great  man)  who  had  cited  the  Rambler  article  and 
attacked  it."  He  has  given  me  the  lithograph  of  Franzelin's  lecture,  and  I  will 
copy  it  and  send  it  you.  It  is  too  long  to-day.  I  asked  coolly  for  Cardella's  own 
notes — he  had  not  preserved  them,  nor  did  he  want  it  known  that  he  had  given 
me  Franzelin's  lithograph,   "  for,"  he  said,    'we  must  keep  peace  with  our  own 


APPENDICES  549 

people,  though  I  wish  to  serve  Father  Newman  in  any  way  in  my  power."  He 
gave  me  several  other  instances  of  his  good-will  towards  you,  and  I  am  to  see 
him  again.' 


The  following  is  the  Memorandum  referred  to  at  p.  i8o,  drafted 
by  Mr.  William  Palmer  on  behalf  of  the  Oratorian  Fathers,  which  was 
sent  in  Italian  to  Cardinal  Barnabo  on  May  i6,  1867  : 

'  It  has  been  objected  to  us  by  your  Eminence  and  by  others  besides  (members 
too  of  the  S.  Congregation  of  the  Propagation  of  the  Faith)  that  certain  pas- 
sages of  an  article  in  the  Rambler,  having  been  delated  by  a  Bishop  to  the 
S.  Congregation  of  the  Index,  as  long  ago  as  1S60,  and  Father  Newman  having 
been  called  upon  by  authority  to  explain  statements  cither  heterodox  or  as  some 
say  even  "heretical,"  he  has  never  yet  explained. 

'  If  this  were  simply  so,  it  would  be  no  wonder  that  he  should  have  been  mis- 
trusted as  heterodox,  or  at  least  as  disobedient,  and  suspected  as  if  capable  of 
manceuvring  to  encourage  mixed  education  in  England  in  spite  of  the  judgments 
of  the  S.  Congregation  and  of  the  Holy  Father  against  it. 

'  But  in  point  of  fact  Father  Newman,  immediately  on  hearing  of  the  call 
made  upon  him,  addressed  to  the  late  Cardinal  Archbishop  of  Westminster, — 
Cardinal  Wiseman — then  at  Rome,  the  following  letter  "... 

'  This  letter  was  certainly  received  by  the  Cardinal  as  it  was  shown  by  him  to 
persons  still  living  ;  but  (to  whatever  cause  the  failure  may  have  been  owing)  no 
answer  to  it  from  the  Cardinal  himself,  nor  any  written  or  verbally  delivered  in  his 
name,  was  ever  received  by  Dr.  Newman ;  only  he  was  told  briefly  some  months 
later  by  Monsignor  Manning  (then  Provost  of  Westminster)  that  "the  affair  of 
the  Rambler  had  been  settled.'''' 

'Since  then,  however,  influential  writers  and  something  like  a  party  in 
England  have  not  ceased  to  utter  and  to  circulate  suspicions  and  imputations 
against  Father  Newman  as  if  he  were  heterodox,  and  even  the  greatest  adversary 
of  orthodoxy  ;  at  the  same  time  they  have  deprecated  with  warmth  his  being  sent 
to  Oxford  not  merely  for  any  bye  reason  of  alleged  insincerity  or  disobedience  in 
the  question  of  mixed  education,  but  honestly  and  avowedly  for  fear  of  his  being 
successful  as  a  missionary  and  converting  Protestants  to  a  spurious  Catholicism 
more  pernicious  than  Protestantism  itself  And  here  at  Rome  not  only  do  we 
hear  Father  Newman  spoken  of  by  members  of  the  Sacred  Congregation  and  by 
others  as  having  been  under  a  cloud  and  as  suspected  of  persistent  opposition 
to  the  wishes  and  judgments  of  the  S.  Congregation  and  of  the  Holy  Father 
in  the  matter  of  mixed  education  ;  but  we  find  also  that  the  article  in  the 
Rambler  above  alluded  to,  and  its  author,  have  been  denounced  as  heterodox 
by  Roman  Professors  in  full  class,  and  in  lectures  which  are  lithograplied  and 
sold. 

'  It  becomes  therefore  our  duty,  as  sent  to  offer  explanations  on  his  behalf,  to 
petition  that  now,  at  least,  the  article  of  the  Rambler  with  the  passages  marked, 
as  originally  denounced,  and  with  that  Italian  translation  on  the  presumption  of 
the  accuracy  of  which  explanation  was  called  for,  may  be  communicated  to  Father 
Newman  by  the  same  authority  which  calls  upon  him  to  explain. 

'If  he  should  be  able  to  explain  satisfactorily  a  double  question  will  still 
remain  respecting  the  Oxford  Mission. 

^  The  text  of  the  letter  is  given  at  p.  171. 


550  LIFE  OF  CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

'  First,  whether  the  Bishop  has  judged  well  or  ill  in  regarding  Oxford  as  pre- 
eminently the  place  for  a  Mission,    and   in    selecting   Father   Newman   as   the 

Missionary  most  fitted  by  his  antecedents  to  be  sent  thither ;  and 

«  Secondly,  whether  (apart  from  any  suspicion  of  heterodoxy  or  disobedience 
in  the  Missionary)  the  fact  that  the  very  existence  of  a  Mission  at  Oxford,  and 
still  more  its  being  placed  under  Father  Newman  (nay,  even  his  keeping  a 
superior  Grammar  School  at  Birmingham),  may  tend  in  particular  cases  to  attract 
Catholics  to  Oxford,  is  a  sufficient  reason  for  eitlier  suppressing  the  Oxford 
Mission  altogether,  or  at  least  ostracising  that  particular  Missionary  whom,  on 
general  grounds,  the  Bishop  selects  as  the  fittest  person  to  send  there. 

'  On  neither  of  these  questions  when  once  they  are  disentangled  from  those 
personal  suspicions  and  imputations  with  which  they  have  hitherto  been  mixed 
up  from  the  first,  is  it  becoming  for  Father  Newman  or  for  us  to  enter  ;  they  relate 
to  tlie  interests  of  the  Catliolic  Church  in  England  viewed  either  as  a  community 
within  itself,  or  in  its  relation  to  a  great  heterodox  nation  or  empire  in  the  midst 
of  which  Divine  Providence  has  placed  it  as  a  little  leaven,  for  the  purpose,  as 
we  may  hope,  of  leavening  the  whole. 

'  But  until  all  personal  suspicions,  not  only  of  heterodoxy,  but  also  of  oppo- 
sition and  disobedience  on  the  matter  of  mixed  education,  and  the  confusion  and 
misconceptions  thence  arising,  both  in  England  and  here  too,  as  it  seems,  at  Rome, 
have  been  completely  dispelled  and  until  sunshine  has  broken  through  that  "cloud  " 
under  which  we  are  seen  by  some  to  be,  we  cannot  but  regret  and  think  it  hard 
that  when  the  question  of  encouraging  Catholics  to  study  or  discouraging  and  all 
but  prohibiting  them  from  studying  in  the  Protestant  Universities  was  first  raised 
in  England  (being  raised  too  in  connection  with  rumours  and  suspicions  about 
Father  Newman),  and  when  the  opinions  of  many  other  Ecclesiastics,  converts 
especially,  were  sought  by  the  late  Cardinal  to  lay  before  the  Bishops,  it  was  not 
thought  necessary  or  advisable  to  ask  Father  Newman  also,  as  one  among  the  rest, 
what  his  views  on  the  subject  really  were. 

'  We  have  certainly  been  sent  to  offer  explanations  not  on  behalf  of  the  Bishop 
of  Birmingham,  but  on  behalf  of  Father  Newman  and  the  Oratory  ;  still  as  the 
Bishop  also  was  desirous  and  urgent  that  we  should  come,  we  think  it  proper, 
before  leaving  Rome,  to  offer  to  Your  Eminence  and  to  Propaganda  a  Memorandum 
as  to  the  manner  in  which  the  Bishop  seems  to  ourselves  to  have  acted  towards 
Father  Newman  and  the  Oratory,  so  that  we  may  not,  by  our  silence,  be  open 
hereafter  to  a  suspicion  of  having  behaved  as  if  we  were  indirectly  complainant 
against  him. 

'  The  Bishop  clearly  did  not  understand  Propaganda  (however  strongly  it  might 
discourage  Catholics  from  studying  in  Protestant  Universities)  to  discountenance 
his  wish  to  improve  the  Oxford  Mission  (although  no  doubt  any  improvement 
small  or  great  of  that  Mission  might  incidentally  and  in  some  degree  tend  to  attract 
Catholics  to  Oxford) ;  on  the  contrary,  he  supposed  that  he  was  rather  commended 
for  having  opporltmely  treated  ("opportune  cum  illo  egeres  de  Missione,"  &c.) 
with  Father  Newman  with  a  view  to  his  undertaking  the  Oxford  Mission, 
and  directed  in  case  Father  Neiuman  declined  it,  still  to  send  some  able  priest 
to  Oxford. 

'  The  Bishop,  in  making  his  second  overture  to  Father  Newman,  communicated 

to  him  this  portion  of  the  letter  (then  recently  received    from  Propaganda)  as 

favourable  to  Father  New7nan''s  acceptance  of  the  Oxford  Mission.     And  Father 

Newman  at  length  consented  ;  not,  however,  unless  permission  could  be  obtained 

for  the  new  Oratory  which  he  should  found  in  connection  -with  the  Mission  at 


APPENDICES  551 

Oxford  to  remain  during  his  own  life  and  for  three  years  after  his  death  subordinate 
to  the  Oratory  at  Birmingham, />-(?;«  which  he  did  not  contemplate  (as  the  Bishop 
wrote  afterwards  to  the  Propaganda)  transferring  hiviself  absohitely  to  Oxford. 

'  The  Bishop's  application  for  this  permission  having  been  mistrusted,  as  if 
implying  some  indirect  view  towards  mixed  education,  he  wrote  a  statement  at 
length  of  the  circumstances  of  the  Oxford  Mission,  appending  also  that  whole 
passage  of  the  former  letter  of  the  Propaganda  which  he  had  communicated  to 
Father  Newman  as  one  reason  among  others  for  him  not  to  persist  in  declining 
the  Mission. 

'  After  some  time  the  permission  petitioned  for  was  granted,  but  "  conditionally 
and  provisionally,"  and  with  an  Instruction  appended,  that,  "  if  the  Bishop 
perceived  Father  Newman  to  contemplate  transferring  his  residence  to  Oxford  he 
was  gently  and  courteously  to  dissuade  him." 

'  This  clause,  being  based,  seemingly,  on  the  Bishop's  own  words  respecting 
Father  Newman's  intentions  in  a  former  letter,  was  not  taken  to  imply  a  denial 
and  retractation  of  the  main  point  which  had  been  petitioned  for,  and  which  had 
apparently  been  granted.  For  certainly  neither  the  Bishop  nor  Father  Newman 
had  contemplated  that  while  undertaking  the  Mission  with  cure  of  souls  at  Oxford, 
and  founding  there  an  Oratory  to  be  subordinate  to  that  of  Birmingham,  he 
should  be  fettered  either  as  to  the  frequency,  or  the  length,  of  those  stays  in 
Oxford  which  he  might  find  to  be  desirable.  The  Bishop,  therefore,  thought  that 
on  the  sense  of  this  clause  he  had  need  to  ascertain  more  distinctly  the  intention 
of  Propaganda.  And  in  the  meantime,  expecting  to  be  himself  before  long  at 
Rome,  and  seeing  the  clause  to  be  of  the  nature  of  a  private  Instruction,  he  did 
not  think  it  necessary,  or  proper,  to  communicate  it,  when  he  communicated  the 
rest  of  the  letter  to  Father  Newman. 

*  Father  Newman  then  issued  a  Prospectus,  embodying  a  letter  from  the  Bishop, 
inviting  contributions  from  Catholics  towards  the  foundation  of  an  Oratory,  and 
the  building  of  a  Church  at  Oxford.  On  which  immediately  misconceptions  and 
misinterpretations  arose  as  before ;  and  an  anonymous  article  in  a  newspaper, 
written  from  Rome,  detailed,  as  if  from  some  authentic  sources  of  information,  the 
views  and  acts  and  motives  of  the  Propaganda,  imputing  to  it  and  to  the  Holy 
Father  himself,  grave  suspicions  against  Father  Newman,  not  only  of  persistent 
disobedience  in  the  matter  of  mixed  education,  but  also  of  heterodoxy,  and 
announcing  that,  if  permission  had  been  given  to  found  a  Church  and  Oratory  at 
Oxford,  it  had  been  clogged  with  such  conditions  and  reservations  as  would 
render  it  innocuous  ;  and,  in  particular,  that  there  was  an  express  stipulation 
that  P'ather  Newman  himself  should  not  reside  there. 

'  After  this  the  Bishop  felt  himself  obliged  to  communicate  to  Father  Newman 
that  reserved  clause  or  Instruction,  the  substance  of  which  (whether  in  its  true 
sense  or  otherwise)  had  already  appeared  in  the  newspaper.  And  hence  there 
was  an  additional  reason  for  the  Bishop's  wishing  and  urging  that  some  one  should 
be  sent  from  the  Oratory  at  Birmingham  to  offer  at  Rome  on  behalf  of  Father 
Newman  whatever  explanations  might  be  desired.' 


552  LIFE   OF  CARDINAL   NEWMAN 


APPENDIX   TO   CHAPTER    XXIX 

The  following  letters  referred  to  at  p.  299  should  be  read,  in  addition 
to  those  in  the  text,  as  illustrating  Newman's  state  of  mind  during  the 
progress  of  the  Vatican  Council  and  after  its  prorogation  : 

Dr.  Newman  to  Mr.  Hope-Scott. 

'  The  Oratory  :  Feast  of  the  Holy  Name  of  Jesus,  January  i6th,  1870. 

'  As  to  the  Council,  as  far  as  I  can  make  out,  it  stands  thus  : — Two  hundred 
Bishops,  many  of  them  distinguished  men,  stand  out — 400  or  500  have  taken  the 
popular  view — but  in  this  way.  Manning  found  himself  with  perhaps  a  smaller 
number  than  Mgr.  Dupanloup.  A  middle  party  rose,  eclipsing  the  two  extremes, 
as  it  was  sure  to  do.  This  middle  party  was  for  a  compromise.  Mgr.  Manning 
has  thrown  himself  upon  or  into  this  middle  party,  joining  them  and  raising  the 
terms  of  the  compromise— and  in  this  way,  I  suspect,  the  full  400  or  500  are  made 
up.  The  terms  he  is  trying  for  are  that  "The  Pope  is  inerrable  in  matters  de 
fide  ' — this  is  veiy  far  short  of  Ward's  wishes  or  Manning's,  but  further  than 
Mgr.  Dupanloup  would  grant. 

'  It  has  another  difficulty.  Since  you  cannot  make  a  division  in  the  Pope's 
divine  gift,  and  say  he  is  infallible  only  in  part  of  the  things  in  which  the  Church 
is  infallible,  to  pass  a  decree  that  the  Pope  is  infallible  in  matters  de  fide  is  to  say 
that  in  all  matters  not  de  fide  there  is  nowhere  any  gift  of  infallibility — but  this  is 
contrary  to  the  Gallican  notion,  which,  lodging  the  gift  in  the  Church,  not  the 
Pope,  enlarges  the  subject  matter  of  the  gift,  taking  in,  for  instance,  infallible 
condemnation  of  books.  Therefore,  though  I  know  Manning's  proposition  is 
what  I  have  said,  still  it  can't  pass.  Time  is  everything — but  the  Ultras  are 
hurrying  on.' 

April  ist,  1870. 
'  My  dear  Hope-Scott,  —Does  not  the  present  position  of  Catholic  affairs  in 
high  quarters  show  the  gteat  mistake  which  Catholics  who  are  not  ultras,  have 
made  in  not  supporting  some  journals  to  represent  them?  Things  would  never 
have  come  to  their  present  pass,  if  we  had  our  Univers  and  Tablet.  For  myself, 
if  I  want  at  any  time  to  put  in  a  letter,  I  have  no  whither  to  go,  unless  I  betake 
myself  to  some  Protestant  publication. 

'  Ward  supports,  I  suppose,  Tablet  as  well  as  Dublin — and  the  London 
Oratory  too — but  no  one  does  anything  for  any  London  Congregation  which  takes 
the  other  side,  or  any  London  periodical  of  moderate  sentiments. 

'  I  think,  whatever  happens,  a  sort  of  Catholic  alliance  should  be  formed  with 
the  French  and  German  Bishops,  and  Yankee  Bishops  for  time  to  come — each 
country  standing  by  itself,  yet  having  an  understanding  with  each  other.  You  set 
up  the  Guardian,  which  has  done  its  work  well — you  should  help  in  setting  up  a 
Catholic  Guardian. 

'  I  fear  by  some  mistake  my  bulky  letter  was  not  prepaid. 

'  Ever  yours  afTly. , 

John  H.  Newman.' 
Dr.  Newman  to  Miss  Holmes. 

'  The  Oratory  :  Easter  Day,  1870. 
'  My  dear  Miss  Holmes, — All  good  Easter  wishes  to  you.      I  am  glad  you  are 
in  London.     My  poor  Bishop  is  in  sad  desolation  at  my  letter  having  got  out,  but 


APPENDICES  553 

had  nothing  to  do  with  the  catastrophe.  A  lady  to  his  surprise  he  found  showing 
it  about  Rome — but  he  had  nothing  to  do  with  her  getting  hold  of  it — and  no  one 
knows  how  she  got  it. 

'  I  felt  it  a  sacred  duty  to  tell  him  all  my  mind.  Whom  could  I  speak  to  but 
my  Bishop?  I  spoke  to  no  one  else.  No  one  whatever  saw  my  letter  here,  but 
one  person — and  I  could  not  send  it  without  the  eye  of  another  over  it — and  he 
and  I  kept  a  profound  secret  about  it.  No — it  is  one  of  those  wonderful  things, 
which  cannot  distress  one,  because  simply  it  was  in  no  sense  one's  own  doing.  I 
only  wish,  since  the  letter  was  to  get  out,  I  had  introduced  into  it  the  awful  text, 
which  is  so  much  forgotten,  "  who  shall  scandalize  one  of  these  little  ones,  who 
believe  in  Me,  it  were  better  that  a  millstone  should  be  tied  round  his  neck, 
and  he  cast  into  the  sea."  What  call  have  we  to  shock  and  frighten  away  the 
weak  brothers  for  whom  Christ  died  ? 

'  Thank  you  for  your  prayers — Don't  suppose  I  am  cast  down — not  a  bit  of.it. 

And,  thank  God,  I  am  very  well. 

'  Ever  yrs  affly., 

John  H.  Newman. 
<  P.S. — Let  me  know  when  you  want  me  to  lend  you  anything.' 

To  Father  John  Walford,  S.J. 

'  The  Oratory  :   May  19th,  1870. 

'  My  dear  Father  Walford, — Thank  you  for  your  affectionate  letter.  It  is  very 
pleasant  to  us  to  find  }ou  remember  our  Novena,  and  again  that  you  take  an 
interest  in  my  new  book,  which  was  very  difficult  to  write,  yet  without  being  easy 
to  read. 

'  Difficulties,  such  as  my  nephew's,  are,  as  you  know,  not  uncommon.  It  is 
a  delicate  thing  to  answer  them  without  knowing  something  of  the  objector,  for 
what  is  apposite  for  one  is  unsuitable  to  another. 

'I.  As  to  the  wonderful  revival  of  religion  in  the  Established  Church,  I 
certainly  think  it  comes  from  God.  If  so,  it  must  tend,  as  it  visibly  does  tend,  to 
the  Church's  benefit.  One  cannot  conceive  the  generation  which  is  brought  up 
under  it,  when  they  come  to  maturity  and  to  power,  resting  satisfied  with  the 
Anglican  system.  If  their  fathers,  the  present  generation,  yearn  for  unity,  and  for 
communion  with  St.  Peter,  much  more  will  their  children. 

'  There  is  nothing  to  prove  that  the  present  race  of  Catholicizing  Anglicans  is 
in  bad  faith  ;  and  there  is  much  to  show  on  the  other  hand  that  they  are  in  good 
fauh. 

'  It  is  possible  indeed  that  the  next  generation  may  go  off  into  Liberalism— as 
Hale  and  Chillingworth,  the  disciples  of  Laud.  But  I  rather  hope  that  Holy 
Church  will  arrest  and  win  them  over  by  her  beauty  and  sanctity,  her  gentleness, 
serenity,  and  prudence. 

'  Anyhow  we  need  not  say  that  Anglicans  at  this  time  cast  out  devils  through 
Beelzebub  ;  rather  they  are  like  the  man  of  whom  Our  Lord  said  :  "  Forbid  him 
not,"  &c. 

'  2.  As  to  my  nephew's  fears  about  the  definition  of  the  Pope's  Infallibility, 
while  they  art  but  fears,  they  are  not  arguments ;  and  they  never  will  become 
arguments,  because  he  says  he  has  no  expectations  that  they  will  ever  be  fulfilled. 

To  Sister  I\L\ria  Pia. 

'  July  14,   1870. 
*  My  dear  Sister  Pia, — I  write  on  the  37th  anniversary  of  the  commencement 
of  the  Oxford  Movement.     I  am  quite  well,  thank  you — I  have  not  been  so  well 


554  I^IFE   OF   CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

for  years,  nay,  I  can't  tell  when.  I  have  not  written  to  you  because  I  have  had 
nothing  to  say,  though  I  ought  to  have  thanked  you  for  your  so  kindly  contriving 
to  give  me  a  claim  on  your  community's  prayers.  Of  course,  as  life  goes  on,  or 
rather  as  death  approaches,  that  is  what  one  wants  most,  and  after  death  also. 
Don't  fancy  all  the  vulgarities  of  the  Tablet  annoy  me  personally.  First,  I  never 
see  them  ;  next,  I  had  such  a  seasoning  of  the  like  when  I  was  an  Anglican  that 
I  am  hardened  against  them  ;  thirdly  they  do  me  good  by  disgusting  people,  who 
in  consequence  take  my  part.  My  "Grammar"  has  been  well  spoken  of 
generally.  Fr.  Harper  is  my  friend,  but  he  has  a  right  to  criticize  the  book, 
especially  so  far  forth  as  it  is  not  in  coincidence  with  the  Jesuit  Traditions. 

'  I  am  very  well,  except  when  I  move  al)out.  That  tries  me.  Lately,  in 
execution  of  long  promises,  I  went  from  home  from  Monday  to  Saturday,  visiting 
Mr.  Church,  my  cousin  Louisa  Deane  (whom  I  had  not  seen  for  26  years), 
IL  Wilberforce,  and  George  Copeland  ;  and  was  certainly  not  the  better  for  it. 
George  Copeland,  who,  as  you  must  know,  is  utterly  paralysed  except  in  his  head, 
which  is  as  full  of  vigorous  thought  as  ever,  inquired  much  after  you.  I  had  never 
seen  his  daughters  before.  They  are  suffering  from  their  Father's  long  illness.  He 
showed  me  your  first  oil  painting,  which  he  praised  very  much. 

'  This  leads  me  to  thank  you,  as  I  do  sincerely,  for  the  precious  presents  which 
you  are  sending  me  by  Fr.  M.  I  have  given  you  (with  some  others)  a  Mass  a 
week  since  January — indeed  have  done  the  like  for  years. 

'  Ever  yrs  affectly.  in  Xt. 

John  H.  Newman. 

'  Fr.  Ambrose  will  tell  me  about  you.  He  is  knocked  up  by  the  heat  and 
work,  and  thirsty  for  the  High  Alps.'' 

To  Mr.  Ornsby. 

'August  21,  1870. 
'  I  am  neither  for  France  or  Prussia,  but  for  peace.  I  can't  help  pitying 
exceedingly  Louis  Napoleon— he  has  done  a  great  deal  for  France,  and  a  great 
deal  for  the  Church,  a  great  deal  for  England  —but  Englishmen,  Catholics  and 
Frenchmen  are  all  ungrateful  to  him.  That  his  basis  is  hollow,  and  personal 
government  is  a  shame  and  worse,  is  true — but  what  claim  had  he  but  his  uncle's 
name,  what  rule  of  government  but  his  uncle's  traditions,  what  warrant  but 
success  like  his  uncle's  ?  He  did  what  he  could — he  has  risen  up  to  a  great 
height,  and  his  fall  is  tragical,  more  tragical  than  his  uncle's.  But  it  is  an  old 
story,  "ToUuntur  in  altum,  ut  lapsu  graviore  cadant."  He  went  in  for  a  great 
prize,  and  he  got  it,  but  only  on  conditions— and  he  had  no  right  to  complain  if 
the  wheel  of  fortune  turns  on,  and  he  necessarily  is  underneath  now  l)y  that  same 
law  of  revolution  which  made  him  at  one  lime  at  the  top.' 

To  Miss  Bowles. 

'  April  30,  iSjt. 
•  ....•••• 

*  As  to  Catholic  boys,  the  great  evil  is  the  want  of  a  career — when  they  get  to 
the  top  form,  they  fall  back  and  are  idle,  as  having  nothing  to  look  out  for.  They 
need  a  University.  This  is  no  fault  of  Catholicism,  but,  as  far  as  I  know,  of  one 
man.  Cardinal  Wiseman  was  in  favour  of  Oxford — till  some  one  turned  him 
round  his  finger — and  then  he  brought  out  a  set  of  questions  addressed  to  Catholic 
gentlemen,  one  of  which  was  "  Do  you  wish  your  sons  better  educated  than  your 
priests?"  as  a  reason  against  their  going  to  Oxford.      This  was  one  chief  reason 


APPENDICES  555 

why  it  was  decided  that  Catholic  youths  might  not  have  a  career.  There  are 
those  who  wish  Catholic  women,  not  nuns,  to  have  no  higher  pursuit  than  that  of 
dress,  and  Catholic  youths  to  be  shielded  from  no  sin  so  carefully  as  from 
intellectual  curiosity.  All  this  is  the  consequence  of  Luther,  and  the  separation 
off  of  the  Teutonic  races — and  of  the  imperiousness  of  the  Latin.  But  the  Latin 
race  will  not  always  have  a  monopoly  of  the  magisterium  of  Catholicism,  We 
must  be  patient  in  our  time  ;  but  God  will  take  care  of  Ilis  Church— and,  when 
the  hour  strikes,  the  reform  will  begin.  Perhaps  it  has  struck,  though  we  can't 
yet  tell.' 

To  THE  Same. 

June  8,  1S72. 

'  You  may  say  from  and  for  me  three  things  to  anyone  you  please. 

'  (i)  That  I  never  have  by  word  or  act  advocated  the  scheme  of  a  Catholic 
College  at  Oxford,  though  many  have  attributed  such  a  scheme  to  me.  What 
alone  I  took  part  in  was  the  establishment  of  an  Orator}'  there  to  protect  Catholic 
youths  residing  in  Protestant  Colleges. 

'  (2)  And  what  I  advocated  then  I  advocate  now.  In  a  hard  matter  and  in  a 
choice  of  difficulties,  I  would  rather  have  Catholic  youths  in  Protestant  Colleges 
at  Oxford  with  a  strong  Catholic  Mission  in  the  place,  than  a  Catholic  College. 

'  (3)  And  I  thought  and  think  that  the  Bishops  took  an  unadvisalile  step,  and 
brought  the  whole  Catholic  body  in  England  into  a  great  difficulty,  when  on 
March  23,  1S65,  they  discountenanced,  to  the  practical  effect  of  a  prohibition, 
the  residence  of  Catholics  at  Oxford. 

'  Moreover,  since  the  Archbishop  (Manning)  or  Dr.  Ward  may  maintain  that 
I  have  now  softened  what  I  said  in  my  private  letter  to  a  friend,  part  of  a  sentence 
of  which  was  shown  to  the  Archbishop,  I  here  quote  the  whole  sentence 
unmutilated,  as  it  stood  in  my  letter,  that  you  may  have  your  answer  pal. 

'  "  If  I  were  upon  the  rack,  and  forced  to  name  some  scheme  or  other  for 
Catholic  University  education,  when  nothing  satisfactory  is  possible,  I  should  not 
propose  a  Catholic  University,  for  I  think  our  present  rulers  would  never  give  us 
a  real  one  ;  nor  a  Catholic  College  at  Oxford,  for  such  a  measure  at  the  present 
moment  would  be  challenging  controversy  and  committing  Catholic  theologians 
most  dangerously  in  the  religious  difficulties  of  the  day  ;  but  I  should  say  that  the 
Bishops  ought  to  have  let  things  alone  seven  years  ago,  and  that,  in  our  present 
straits,  they  will  do  best  to  undo  their  own  work,  and  to  let  Catholics  go  to 
Protestant  Colleges,  (without  their  formal  sanction)  and  to  provide  a  strong 
Mission  worked  by  theologians,  i.e.  a  strong  Jesuit  Mission,  to  protect  the  Catholic 
youth  from  the  infidelity  of  the  place." 

'  As  to  Father  St.  John,  he  has  advocated  in  his  late  remarks  a  Catholic 
College  at  Oxford  ;  but  he  adds,  (I  believe,  for  he  may  have  some  troui)le  in 
finding  his  paper)  that  no  youths  had  gone  to  Oxford  lately  who  did  not  lose  by 
the  absence  of  a  strong  ecclesiastical  superintendence.' 


556  LIFE   OF  CARDINAL   NEWMAN 


APPENDIX   TO    CHAPTER    XXXI 

The  following  letters  (see  p.  379)  were  addressed  by  Newman  to 
persons  who  were  tried  by  the  definition  of  1870  : 

To  Sir  William  Cope,  Bt. 

'  Deer.  Toth,  1871. 

'  My  dear  Sir  William, — I  have  wished  to  write  to  you  ever  since  I  received 
your  most  interesting  letter  in  October — but,  as  often  as  I  thought  of  it,  I  found 
also  I  had  nothing  worth  saying.  Still  I  will  not  let  your  letter  pass  away, 
without  assuring  you  at  least,  how  fully  I  enter  into  it,  and  how  truly  I  feel  and 
respect  your  difficulties. 

'  Divine  Providence  has  allowed  the  act  of  last  year  for  some  good  purpose,  and 
we  must  submit  to  His  will.  For  myself,  I  see  the  doctrine  implied  in  the 
conduct  of  the  Roman  See,  nay  of  the  Catholic  Church,  from  the  first,  but  I  am 
not  of  course  blind  to  the  difficulties  in  detail  which  it  has  to  encounter.  The 
dogma  seems  to  me  as  mildly  framed  as  it  could  be  — or  nearly  so.  That  the  Pope 
was  infallible  in  General  Council,  or  when  speaking  -with  the  Church,  all 
admitted,  even  Galileans.  They  admitted,  I  think  I  may  say,  that  his  word  ex 
cathedra  was  infallible,  if  the  Bishops  did  no  more  than  keep  silence.  All  that 
is  passed  last  year,  that  in  some  sense  he  may  speak  per  se,  and  his  speech  may  be 
infallible — I  say  in  some  sense,  because  a  Bishop  who  voted  for  the  dogma  tells 
me  that  at  the  time  an  explanation  was  given  that  in  one  sense  the  Pope  spoke 
pe7-  se,  and  in  another  sense  not  fer  sc. 

'  All  these  questions  are  questions  for  the  theological  school — and  theologians 
will,  as  time  goes  on,  settle  the  force  of  the  wording  of  the  dogma,  just  as  the 
courts  of  law  solve  the  meaning  and  bearing  of  the  Acts  of  Parliament. 

'  I  don't  think  it  should  interfere,  whatever  perplexity  it  may  cause,  with  the 
great  fact  that  the  Catholic  Church  (so  called)  is  the  Church  of  the  Apostles,  the 
one  fold  of  Christ. 

'  I  have  written  as  my  course  of  thought  has  taken  me,  without  premeditation 
— hoping,  if  what  I  have  said  is  worth  nothing  else,  it  will  at  least  show  that  I 
have  not  forgotten  your  anxieties. 

'  I  am,  my  dear  Sir  William, 

Sincerely  yours, 

John  H.  Newman.' 

To  Mr.  Willis  Nevins. 

'  June  16,  1872. 

'  I  think  we  must  make  a  broad  distinction  between  an  initial  or  prima  facie 
and  ultimate,  formal,  and  ex  cathedra  decision  of  ecclesiastical  authority.  As 
there  are  decisions  of  Councils  which  are  not  infallible — so  there  are  decisions  of 
Popes.  I  believe  the  Popes  at  first  said  strong  things  against  Aristotle's 
philosophy.  Pope  Zozimus  is  said  to  have  been  taken  in  by  the  Pelagians. 
John  the  XXII.  professed  views  about  the  present  state  of  the  Saints  which  he 
himself  retracted  before  his  death  ;  which  his  successor  contradicted  in  a  brief  or 
bull  issued  on  purpose ;  which  the  Council  of  Florence  has  made  heretical. 
Pope  Vigilius  too  is  in  some  such  scrape. 

'The  question  then  is  whether  you  can  properly  say  that  Honorius,  in 
countenancing  the  Monothelite  doctrine,  spoke  ex  cathedra.     Now  here  recollect 


APPENDICES  557 

that  Popes  do  not  decide  on  matters  at  the  very  beginning  of  a  controversy,  but 
at  the  end.  It  runs  its  course  and  then  the  Holy  See  speaks.  The  dogma  of 
two  Wills  was  not  decided  till  forty  years  after  Honorius's  death — Monothelitism 
was  no  heresy  in  Honorius's  time,  any  more  than  the  double  personality  was  a 
heresy  before  Nestorius.  Ideas  and  words  have  to  be  defined,  and  they  cannot 
be  defined  till  controversy  clears  the  matter.  The  great  Council  of  Antioch  in 
364  condemned  the  Homoousion,  which  the  Nicene  Council  has  made  the  test  of 
orthodoxy.  On  the  first  blush  of  the  matter  a  great  deal  might  be  said  for 
Honorius's  view,  and  recollect  his  great  object  was  to  heal  a  schism  from  which  the 
Church  suffers  even  now,  which  at  the  time  was  a  great  help  to  Mahommetanism. 
That  he  was  hasty,  injudicious,  intellectually  hazy,  one  may  grant.  The 
question  is  whether  he  was  intending  to  teach  the  Catholic  Church — was  he  not 
rather  experimentalizing  ?  Is  it  not  the  part  of  a  Lawyer  or  a  Controversialist 
to  argue  from  mere  words  or  acts,  and  not  to  throw  one's  mind  into  the  times, 
and  to  try  to  place  ourselves  in  Honorius's  place  ?  I  think  Dcillinger  wants 
imagination,  considerateness,  charity. 

'  Poor  Honorius  died  in  peace.  There  was  no  popular  general  outcry  against 
him,  as  in  the  case  of  John  XXII.— was  there  ?  I  think  not.  This  either  shows 
his  act  was  not  a  public  one,  or  that  it  was  so  metaphysical  a  point,  or 
grammatical  even,  that  the  delicate  sense  of  Catholics  was  not  shocked  by  it. 
Recollect  St.  Cyril  holds  the  formula  of  the  "  One  Incarnate  nature  of  the  Word." 
We  all  explain  him  in  an  orthodox  sense.  ...  I  am  far  from  certain  that  in  like 
manner  we  should  not  clear  Honorius,  though  he  boldly  said  beyond  mistake 
"  one  will,"  but  for  what  happened  after. 

« Why  don't  we  ?  let  us  see  why.  Honorius  dies  in  peace.  And  his 
memory,  I  think,  was  safe  till  the  6th  General  Council — a  space  of  forty  years. 
Meanwhile  the  controversy  went  on  ;  the  Church  gaining  light,  but  its  con- 
troversialists showing  a  great  deal  of  angry  zeal.  The  question  became  a  party 
question.  It  was  decided,  and  rightly,  against  Honorius,  as  in  a  former  age  it 
was  decided  against  Cyril  ;  but  Honorius  fell  into  hands  not  so  kind  as  Cyril 
found. 

*The  forty  years,  which  were  necessary  for  a  dogmatic  decision,  served  to 
intensify  the  zeal  of  its  promoters  against  those  who  had  stood  in  its  way. 
Honorius  was  pronounced  a  heretic.  Recollect  what  that  really  means— not  that 
he  in  his  own  person  was  heretical,  but  that  he  originated  or  promoted  heresy. 
I  know  some  or  many  theologians  say  otherwise — but  I  never  can  hold  that 
Origen  was  a  heretic,  though  he  is  so  often  called  such.  He  is  made  a  symbol 
of  that  heresy  which  was  found  after  his  day  among  his  followers,  and  is 
anathematized  as  such — I  think  Honorius  was  a  heretic  in  the  sense  in  which 
Origen  is. 

'Here  I  am  speaking  of  what  in  matter  of  fact  is  my  own  opinion— that 
1  lonorius  in  his  own  person  was  not  a  heretic — at  the  same  time,  if  he  was,  that 
does  not  show  that  he  has  taught  heresy  ex  cathedra  any  more  than  Balaam  or 
Caiaphas  were  excluded  from  being  divine  oracles  because  they  were  personally 
in  pagan  or  Judaic  error. 

'  Nothing  good  will  come  of  the  Alt-Catholic  movement,  unless  a  strengthen- 
ing of  infidelity  or  some  form  of  Protestantism  be  good.  No  strengthening  of 
the  Church  of  England,  of  the  Via  Media,  or  of  the  Branch  Theory  will  come 
of  it, 

'  Very  truly  yours, 

John  H.  Newman.' 


558  LIFE   OF  CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

To  Mr.  Arthur  Arnold. 

'  Sept.  22,  1872, 

•  I  have  no  confidence  I  brought  out  my  meaning  adequately  in  my  letter  to 
you.  I  recollect,  on  reading  it  over,  I  noticed  clauses  which  might  have  been 
expressed  better — for  instance,  in  the  last  two  lines,  written  along  the  page,  I 
recollect  I  seemed  to  confuse  inspiration  with  "  adsistentia  " — the  Apostles  were 
inspired — the  Pope  is  not.  What  he  "  defines  "  or  explains  in  Catholic  doctrine  is 
gained  by  him  by  human  means  such  as  the  advice  of  theologians,  etc., — but  in 
the  last  step,  a  Divine  Hand  is  over  him,  keeping  him  in  tether,  so  that  he  cannot 
go  beyond  the  truth  of  revelation.  He  has  no  habit  on  what  is  called  *'  donum 
infusum  "  of  infallibility,  but  when  he  speaks  ex  cathedra,  he  is  restrained  /;-<?  re 
nata,  pro  hac  vice. 

•  I  am  told  those  are  highfliers  who  say  much  more  than  this,  and  there  are 
those,  learned  men,  who  wish  to  bring  in  a  higher  doctrine — but  Perrone,  whose 
book  is  the  theological  hand  book  for  students  in  this  day,  says  "  Nee  enim  sive 
Rom.  Pontificis,  sive  concilii  oecumenici  infallibilitas  media  excludit  ad  veritatem 
de  qua  agitur  assequendam,  quippe,  non  per  modum  infusi  doni,  sed  per  modum 
praesidii,  sive  ut  ajunt  adsistentiae,  Deus  illam  promisit  "  t.  2,  p.  541,  Ed.  1841. 

'  Again  :  "  Nunquam  Catholici  docuerunt  donum  infallibilitatis  a  Deo  ecclesiae 
tribui  per  modum  inspirationis  "  ibid.  p.  253. 

'  Again,  the  recent  definition  says  that  the  Pope  has  that  infallibility  which  the 
Church  has — but  as  Perrone  says  above  ^^  Never  have  Catholics  taught  that  the 
gift  is  an  inspiration." 

'  I  think  I  have  unintentionally  shown  you  in  these  last  sentences,  to  which  I 
have  been  led  on,  how  difficult  it  is  to  do  justice  to  the  subject  in  a  few  words.' 

The  following  letter  was  printed  in  the  Guardian  in  reply  to  an 
attack  by  Mr.  Capes  published  in  that  journal : 

'  Sept.  1872. 

'  Sir, — I  cannot  allow  such  language  as  Mr.  Capes  uses  of  me  in  yesterday's 
Guardian  to  pass  unnoticed,  nor  can  I  doubt  that  you  will  admit  my  answer  to  it. 
I  thank  him  for  having  put  into  print  what  doubtless  has  often  been  said  behind 
my  back  ;  I  do  not  thank  him  for  the  odious  words,  which  he  has  made  the 
vehicle  of  it. 

'  I  will  not  dirty  my  ink  by  repeating  them  ;  but  the  substance,  mildly  stated,  is 
this  : — that  I  have  all  along  considered  the  doctrine  of  tlie  Pope's  Infallibility  to 
be  contradicted  by  the  facts  of  Church  History,  and  that  though  convinced  of  this, 
I  have  in  consequence  of  the  Vatican  Council  forced  myself  to  do  a  thing  that  I 
never,  never  fancied  would  befall  me  when  I  became  a  (Roman)  Catholic  : — viz.  : 
forced  myself  by  some  unintelligible  quibble  to  fancy  myself  believing  what  really 
after  all  in  my  heart  I  could  not,  and  did  not  believe,  and  that  this  operation  and 
its  result  had  given  me  a  considerable  amount  of  pain. 

•  I  could  say  much,  and  quote  much  from  what  I  have  written  in  comment 
upon  this  nasty  view  of  me.  But,  not  to  take  up  too  much  of  your  room,  I  will, 
in  order  to  pluck  it  up  "  by  the  very  roots"  (to  use  his  own  expression)  quote  one 
out  of  various  passages,  in  which,  long  before  the  Vatican  Council  was  dreamed 
of,  at  least  by  me,  I  enunciated  absolutely  the  doctrine  of  the  Pope's  Infallibility. 
It  is  in  my  "Discourses  on  University  Education,"  delivered  in  Dublin  in  1852. 
It  runs  as  follows  : — 

'  "  Deeply  do  I  feel,  ever  will  I  protest, /<?/■  /  can  appeal  to  the  ample  testimony 
of  history  to  bear  mc  out,  that  in  questions  of  right  and  wrong,  there  is  nothing 
really  strong  in  the  whole  world,  nothing  decisive  and  operative,  but  the  voice  of 


APPENDICES  559 

Him,  to  whom  have  been  committed  the  Keys  of  the  Kingdom,  and  the  oversight 
of  Christ's  flock.  That  voice  is  now,  as  ever  it  has  been,  a  real  authority, 
itifallible  when  it  teaches,  prosperous  when  it  commands,  ever  taking  the  lead 
wisely  and  distinctly  in  its  own  province,  adding  certainty  to  what  is  probable, 
and  persuasion  to  what  is  certain.  Before  it  speaks,  the  most  saintly  may 
mistake  ;  and  after  it  has  spoken,  the  most  gifted  must  obey.  ...  If  there  ever 
was  a  power  on  earth  who  had  an  eye  for  the  times,  who  has  confined  himself 
to  the  practicable,  and  has  been  happy  in  his  anticipations,  whose  words  have 
been  deeds,  and  whose  commands  prophecies,  such  is  he  in  the  history  of  ages, 
who  sits  on  from  generation  to  generation  in  the  chair  of  the  Apostles,  as  the 
Vicar  of  Christ,  and  Doctor  of  the  Church.  Has  he  failed  in  his  successes  up  to 
this  hour?  Did  he,  in  our  Fathers'  day,  fail  in  his  struggle  with  Joseph  of 
Germany,  and  his  confederates ;  with  Napoleon — a  greater  name — and  his 
dependent  Kings,  that  though  in  another  kind  of  fight  he  should  fail  in  ours? 
What  grey  hairs  are  on  the  head  of  Judah,  whose  youth  is  renewed  like  the 
eagle's,  whose  feet  are  like  the  feet  of  harts,  and  underneath  the  everlasting 
arms  ?  "  pp.  27-28. 

'This  passage  I  suffered  Father  Cardella  in  1S67  or  1868  to  reprint  in  a 
volume,  which  he  published  at  Rome.  My  reason  for  selecting  it,  as  I  told  him, 
was  this, — because  in  an  abridged  reprint  of  the  discourses  in  1859  I  had  omitted 
it,  as  well  as  other  large  portions  of  the  volume,  as  of  only  temporary  interest, 
and  irrelevant  to  the  subject  of  University  education. 

'I  could  quote  to  the  same  purpose  passages  from  my  "  Essay  on  Develop- 
ment" 1845:  "Loss  and  Gain"  1847:  "Discourses  to  mixed  Congregations" 
1849  :  "  Position  of  Catholics  "  1851  :   "  Church  of  the  Fathers  "  1857. 

'  I  underwent  then  no  change  of  mind  as  regards  the  truth  of  the  doctrine  of 
the  Pope's  Infallibility  in  consequence  of  the  Council.  It  is  true  I  was  deeply, 
though  not  personally,  pained  both  by  the  fact,  and  by  the  circumstances  of  the 
definition  ;  and  when  it  was  in  contemplation  I  wrote  a  most  confidential  letter, 
which  was  surreptitiously  gained,  and  published,  but  of  which  I  have  not  a  word 
to  retract,  the  feelings  of  surprise  and  concern  expressed  in  that  letter  have 
nothing  to  do  with  a  screwing  one's  conscience  to  profets  what  one  does  not 
believe,  which  is  Mr.  Capes's  pleasant  account  of  me.      He  ought  to  know  better. 

'John  H.  Newman.' 


APPENDIX   TO    CHAPTER   XXXII 

The  following  letters  (see  p.  409)  refer  to  Mr.  Gladstone's  pamphlet 
on  'The  Vatican  Decrees'  and  Dr.  Newman's  reply  to  it  in  liis  'Letter 
to  the  Duke  of  Norfolk'  : 

To  Mr.  de  Lisle. 

'  Nov.  6,  1S74. 
•  For  myself,  I  consider  he  is  misled  in  his  interpretation  of  the  ecclesiastical 
acts  of  1870  by  judging  of  the  wording  by  the  rules  of  ordinary  language. 
Theological  language,  like  legal,  is  scientific,  and  cannot  be  understood  without 
the  knowledge  of  long  precedent  and  tradition,  nor  without  the  comments  of 
theologians.  Such  comments  time  alone  can  give  us.  Even  now  Bishop  Fessler 
has  toned  down  the  newspaper  interpretations  (Catholic  and  Protestant)  of  the 
words  of  tlic  Council,  without  any  hint  from  the  Council  itself  to  sanction  him  in 


56o  LIFE   OF  CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

doing  so.  To  give  an  instance  of  what  I  mean  :— Broad  statements,  standing  by 
themselves,  are  open  to  large  exceptions ;— thus,  St.  Cyprian  and  St.  Augustine, 
as  the  succession  of  great  ecclesiastical  authorities  since,  have  said  "out  of  the 
Church  is  no  salvation  "  ;  yet  Pius  the  IX,  and  perhaps  he  the  first  Pope,  has 
made  in  addition  the  large  exception  to  that  principle,  of  invincible  ignorance. 
Obedience  to  the  Pope  in  like  manner  has,  in  the  writings  of  theologians, 
important  limitations.     But  the  subject  is  too  large  for  a  letter.' 

To  Mr.  Arnold. 

'  The  Oratory  :  Dec.  8th,  1874. 
'  No  one  has  any  authority  to  say  I  am  writing  against  Mr.  Gladstone. 
Many  friends  press  me— but  it  would  be  no  good  writing,  unless  I  satisfied 
myself— and,  even  if  I  did  that,  it  still  would  not  follow  that  I  should  be 
satisfying  other  people.  There  are  many  things  which  you  can  neither  avow  nor 
deny—  as  the  old  question.  Had  you  the  wickedness  to  knock  so-and-so  down — 
and  which  it  would  take  a  volume  to  explain,  and  I  am  too  old  to  write  a  volume. 
And  then  it  would  not  be  pleasant  to  make  things  worse  instead  of  making  them 
better,  as  would  be  the  case  if  I  wrote  a  weak  pamphlet.  This  is  about  how  I 
stand.' 

To  Canon  McMullen. 

'  The  Oratory  :  January  18,  1875. 

'  Letters  such  as  yours  are  a  great  kindness,  because  a  great  support  to  me. 
I  have  done  my  best,  but  I  do  not  know  how  it  will  be  taken  in  some  quarters — 
It  is  a  great  thing  therefore  to  be  able  to  say  to  myself,  whatever  happens, 
nothing  can  deprive  me  of  the  sympathy  which  these  private  letters  express  for 
me.  It  is  not  that  I  have  any  reason  for  misgivings — but  I  have  at  various  times 
been  so  strangely  misunderstood  that  I  am  thrown  back  upon  my  own  conscience 
and  the  testimony  of  friends. 

'  Your  letter  then  is  of  great  value  to  me.' 

To  Father  Jones,  S.J. 

'The  Oratory:  January  22nd,  1875. 
«  .  .  .  Il  is  a  great  gain  to  me  that,  though  I  have  not  deserved  it  of  you,  I 
have  your  letter.  Great  as  the  weariness  of  writing  has  been,  my  anxiety  has  been 
quite  as  great  a  trial.  I  have  never  considered  theology  my  line  or  my  forte, 
and  have  not  written  on  it  except  when  obliged.  Under  these  circumstances  you 
may  think  how  exceedingly  gratified  I  have  been  to  receive  your  letter.  It  is  a 
great  thing  to  have  cause  to  believe,  that  on  the  whole  I  have  been  prospered  in 
what  I  have  written.     Please  sometimes  say  a  prayer  for  an  old  man.' 

To  Mrs.  W.  Froude. 

'  Jany.  29,  1875. 

'  It  is  very  pleasant  to  hear  what  you  [both]  say  of  my  Pamphlet,  which  was 
almost  too  much  for  my  strength,  and  especially  William. 

'  As  you  and  he  say,  we  must  wait  to  see  what  Archbishop  Manning  says — 
meanwhile  letters  come  in  to  me  from  all  sides,  approving  and  confirming  my 
statements.  I  should  not  like  names  or  places  mentioned,  but  for  yourself  I  say 
that  I  have  letters  of  approval  from  Bishops  Brown,  Clifford,  Errington,  and 
especially  your  own,  Dr.  Vaughan,  from  St.   Beuno  and  Stonyhurst,   from  the 


APPENDICES  561 

Dominicans  of  Newcastle  and  of  Campden,  from  Maynooth,  I'rovosl  Cookson 
.  .  .  and  various  priests.  The  section  on  the  Syllabus  is  the  most  opposed, 
I  am  told,  to  Archbishop  Manning,  and  in  it  I  am  sheltered  by  Fessler,  whose 
book  is  sanctioned  by  the  Pope.' 

To  Mrs.  W.  Froude. 

'  Feby.  23,  1875. 
'  .  .  .  I  send  you  a  lot  of  letters.  You  will  see  they  are  very  confidential  and 
I  very  immodest  in  sending  them — twenty-two,  including  Dr.  Cullen's  Pastoral. 
This  is  the  most  important  testimony  I  have  had,  as  being  in  print  and  read  in 
all  the  Dublin  Churches.  He  never  would  so  have  done,  unless  he  meant  to 
sanction  the  substance  of  my  Pamphlet.  Dr.  Purcell's  (Archbishop  of  Cincinnati) 
is  very  important  too.  It  shows  there  will  be  some  opposition  to  me  in  the 
United  States— and  doubtless  in  England  too,  for  some  one  is  moving  against  me, 
as  regards  portions  of  my  Pamphlet,  in  a  Catholic  Liverpool  Paper — but  I  trust 
they  will  not  be  able  to  do  anything  to  hurt  my  views  and  arguments  in  the 
estimation  of  Protestants,  by  anything  like  a  bold  opposition  to  them. 

*  You  will  observe  besides,  among  the  letters  I  send,  those  of  a  Bishop,  two 
Provosts  of  important  Dioceses,  tsvo  Jesuit  theologians,  two  Dominicans,  the 
President  of  Maynooth,  and  among  Ultramontanes,  Bowyer  and  Lord  Denbigh. 
The  allusion  in  Dr.  Russell's  letter  to  a  balloon  was  in  consequence  of  my  saying 
tliat  I  was  up  in  one,  and  was  as  yet  in  danger  of  being  entangled  in  chinmey 
pots,  of  being  lodged  on  some  high  tree,  trailed  along  the  ground,  or  run  away 
with  into  the  Oerman  ocean,  and  I  could  not  be  comfortable  till  I  found  myself 
safely  seated  by  my  own  fire-side. 

*  I  hear  good  news  from  France.  M.  \'euillot  is  giving  up  the  Univers — some 
say  from  bad  health,  others  because  he  finds  his  position  a  very  ticklish  one.  In 
Italy,  too.  Father  Curci,  S.J.  is  leaving  the  staff  of  the  Civilta  and  wishes  to  set 
up  a  moderate  periodical  at  Florence,  having  already  published  a  paper  in  which 
he  plainly  announces  that  it  is  a  dream  to  fancy  that  the  temporal  power  can  be 
restored  in  these  times,  and  that  the  Church  must  go  back  to  Apostolic  times. 
Other  moderate  organs  of  religious  opinion,  I  am  told,  are  struggling  into  light  in 
Italy. 

'  P.S.     Thanks  for  the  compliment  you  pay  my  crabbed  "Assent."' 

To  Mrs.  W.  Froude. 

'The  Oratory  :  March  9,  1875. 

'  Certainly  I  shall  not  have  to  write  any  Pamphlet.  Gladstone's  Vaticanism 
is  mainly  against  the  Archbishop,  not  against  me. 

'  In  a  new  Edition  of  my  Letter  I  shall  add  a  Postscript— but  I  should  really 
like  to  be  enlightened  as  to  what  I  have  to  answer  ;  for  G.  only  denies  what  I 
have  said  for  the  most  part,  without  giving  reasons  why. 

'To  go  into  the  Council  of  Constance  is  merely  to  lake  up  the  old  trite 
controversy  whi-'h  has  been  gone  through  time  out  of  mind  bv  the  two  parties, 
each  having  its  cut  and  dried  answers  and  rejoinders. 

'  The  only  thing  that  Gladstone  says  new  is  about  the  marriage  question— that 
I  shall  take  up  as  far  as  1  know  anything  about  it.  I  am  sorry  to  say  there  is 
some  very  unpleasant  case  at  Rome  to  which  G.  refers.  Some  one  I  believe  of 
the  K.  family  is  the  principal  in  it,  which  has  shocked  numbers,  including,  I 
hear,  the  Archbishop  and  our   Bishop.      It  will  be  sure  to  cume  out,  and  will  be 

VOL.  II.  O  O 


S62  LIFE   OF  CARDINAL  NEWMAN 

a  scandal,  if  it  be  what  I  am  told  it  is.  It  is  said  that  some  of  our  Bishops  will 
make  a  statement  about  it.  The  passage  which  Father  Perrone  writes,  and 
Gladstone  quotes,  is  atrocious — but  I  cannot  be  sorry,  if  the  case  is  brought  out, 
for  they  must  be  made  to  feel  at  Rome  that  they,  as  others,  are  exposed  to  the 
public  opinion  of  the  world — but  we  shall  have  to  suffer.' 

To  Miss  Froude. 

'  April  29,  1875. 

*As  to  your  first  question,  I  should  say  that  the  word  "  infalHbility "  has 
never  been  ascribed  to  the  Church  in  any  authoritative  document  till  the  Vatican 
Council — and  it  has  been  not  unfrequenlly  urged  as  an  objection  (and  I  think  by 
myself  in  print  in  former  days)  that  the  Church's  "  infallibility  "  was  not  defide. 
Yet  the  Church  acted  as  infallible  and  was  accepted  as  infallible  from  the  first. 
What  was  the  case  with  the  Church  was  the  case  with  the  Pope.  The  most  real 
expression  of  the  doctrine  is,  not  that  he  is  infallible  but  that  his  decisions  are 
"  irreformabilia "  and  true.  So  that  the  question  did  not  arise  in  the  mind  of 
Christians  in  any  formal  shape,  "  is  he  infallible,  and  in  what  and  how  far?  "  for 
all  they  felt  was  that  what  he  said  was  "  the  voice  of  the  Church,"  "  for  he  spoke 
for  the  Church,"  "the  Church  spoke  in  him,"  and  what  the  Church  spoke  was 
true.  And  accordingly  his  word  was  (to  use  a  common  phrase)  "  taken  for 
gospel,"  and  he  meant  it  "  for  gospel,"  he  "  laid  down  the  law,"  and  he  meant 
to  "  lay  down  the  law  " — he  was  sure  he  was  right,  no  one  had  any  doubt  he  was 
right — he  was  "  the  proper  person  to  speak  and  to  settle  the  matter."  This 
(with  whatever  accidental  exceptions)  was  his  and  the  Christian  world's  feeling 
in  the  matter — as  any  ordinary  man  now,  (bigoted  Protestant,  if  you  will,  acting 
from  prejudice)  says  "  I  know  I  am  right,"  so  the  Pope  would  say  "  I  know  it  is 
so,  and  it  is  my  duty  to  tell  the  flock  of  Christ  so,"  witJioiU  analyzing  whether  it 
was  a  moral  certainty,  or  an  inspiration  or  a  formal  limited  infallibility,  or 
whatever  other  means  which  was  the  ground  of  his  unquestioning  and  his  absolute 
pereniptoriness.  Honorius  then  or  any  other  Pope  of  those  times,  when  he  chose, 
acted  2l^  infallible  and  was  obeyed  z.?,  infallible,  without  having  a  clear  perception 
that  his  ipse  dixit  arose  from  a  gift  of  infallibility. 

'  But  again,  at  least  the  Church  acted  as  infallible  from  the  first,  e.g.  in 
Councils,  &c. — Now  the  Pope  ever  acted  in  company  with  the  Church,  some- 
times before  the  hierarchy,  sometimes  after,  sometimes  simultaneously  with,  the 
hierarchy.  He  always  spoke  as  the  voice  of  the  Church.  The  Vatican 
Council  has  decided  that  he  is  not  only  the  instrumental  and  ministerial  head  or 
organ  of  the  Church,  not  only  has  a  power  of  veto,  not  only  is  a  co-operating 
agent  in  de  fide  decisions,  but  that  in  him  lies  the  root  of  the  matter,  that  his 
decision,  viewed  separate  even  from  the  Bishops,  is  gospel. 

'  Before  the  Vatican  Council,  even  Gallicans  allowed  that  the  Pope  was 
infallible,  supposing  the  Bishops  accepted  his  decision — and  at  least  that  Plonorius 
would  feel,  supposing  him  led  to  make  any  ex  cathedra  decision,  so  that  I  deny 
your  correspondent's  words,  "  he  could  not  in  the  7th  Century  actually  intend  to 
exert  that  infallible  authority,  which  has  been  dogmatically  defined  in  the  19th." 
Yes,  he  could,  and  though  he  might  not  be  clear  as  to  the  conditions  of 
infallibility,  though  he  might  take  for  granted,  or  implicitly  expect,  and  be  sure  of, 
the  concurrence  of  the  Bishops  of  the  world  with  him  as  a  condition  of  the  act 
being  infallible. 

'The  account  I  have  given  of  the  Council  of  Ephesus  in  "  Theodoret  "  in 
Historical  Sketches  is  a  further  illustration  of  what  I  have  tried  to  bring  out  here. 


APPENDICES  563 

'  I  might  have  taken  a  higher  ground,  for  long  before  the  Vatican  Council, 
though  not  perhaps  in  the  time  of  Honorius,  Popes  have  realized  to  themselves 
their  own  infallibility,  and  from  the  first,  as  we  see  in  the  history  of  St.  Victor, 
St.  Stephen,  Si.  Dionysius  in  the  Ante-nicene  times — they  have  acted  as  if 
their  word  was  law,  without  making  nice  distinctions. 

'  When  your  correspondent  says  "  Previous  to  the  Vatican  Council  no  doctrines 
defined  only  by  the  Pope  are  absolutely  to  be  received,"  I  remark  on  the  contrary 
there  was  such  an  agreement  in  fact  between  Pope  and  Bishops  that,  when  he 
taught  and  was  followed  by  the  world,  (as  took  place)  it  was  impossible  to  discuss 
whether  the  Bishops  concurred  by  an  act  of  independent  judgment  or  by  an  act  of 
submission  to  him.  Practically  the  Pope  has  taught  dogmatically  from  the  first, 
e.g.  it  is  not  at  all  clear  that  Leo's  famous  Tome  against  Eutyches  is  an  act  of 
infallibility  ;  but  what  is  clear  is  that  it  had  the  effect  of  turning  a  great  mass  of 
Bishops  right  round,  as  if  he  were  infallible,  and  making  them  with  him  in  the 
Council  of  Chalcedoa  use  the  words  definitive  of  the  two  natures  in  One  Person, 
which  he  had  in  his  Tome  forced  upon  them.  He  has  been  from  the  first 
(where  history  is  minute  enough  for  the  purpose)  the  beginning  and  the  end,  he 
has  had  the  first  and  last  word,  of  every  definition.  You  understand  me,  I  am 
bringing  out  my  view,  without  stopping  to  notice  objections  or  opposite 
statements. 

'  Well,  and  now  I  am  not  sure  whether  I  have  expressed  myself  clearly, 
and  should  like  you  to  tell  me,  whether  it  enables  you  to  answer  your 
correspondent. 

'  But  any  how  I  am  tired  just  now,  and  shall  reserve  your  second  question  for 
another  letter. 

'  When  you  write,  tell  me  honestly  that  you  are  well,  for  till  you  are  quite,  I 
think  you  must  honestly  watch  over  your  doings.' 

To  THE   Same. 

'  Rednal  :  July  zS,  1S75. 

'  I  am  not  sure  that  you  apprehended  my  answer  to  your  first,  which  was,  I 
think,  to  this  effect.  "  Did  not  the  Pope  exert  his  infallible  voice  in  early  times? 
but  if  so,  must  he  not  have  known  himself  infallible,  and  did  he  ?  "  I  think  I 
answered  thus--IIe  never  acted  by  himself — he  acted  in  General  Council,  or  in 
Roman  Council,  with  the  concurrence  or  co-operation  of  some  local  Council, 
or  with  his  own  counsellors  and  theologians ;  never  by  himself— nor  to  this  day 
has  he  acted  by  himself.  Now  in  cases  of  this  kind,  the  question  always  arises, 
what  was,  and  in  what  lay,  the  essence  of  the  act — for  instance,  the  Holy 
Eucharist  is  a  sacrifice — but  to  this  day  it  is  an  open  question  what  is  the  act  of 
sacrifice,  what  is  the  constituting  act,  which  is  the  sacrifice.  The  common 
opinion  is  that  the  act  of  consecration  is  the  act  of  sacrifice— but  Bellarmine, 
I  think,  held  that  it  is  the  Priest's  communion.  While  another  opinion  is  that 
the  whole  action  from  the  consecration  to  the  communion  is  sacrificial.  I  believe 
also  it  is  allov/able  to  consider  that  it  cannot  be  determined,  but  that  the  whole 
canon  must  be  viewed  as  one  indivisible  act,  ("  per  modum  unius  "  is  tlie  theological 
phrase)  and  that  we  cannot  analyze  it,  as  schoolmen  wish  to  do. 

'  The  condemnation  of  Nestorius  illustrates  what  I  would  say  ;  his  doctrine  is 
first  condemned  by  the  Alexandrians  — then  by  his  own  people  of  Syria— then  the 
Pope  sends  round  to  the  principal  sees  of  Christendom,  who  do  the  same.  Upon 
this  the  Pope  sends  him  notice  he  must  recant  within  ten  days  or  he  will  excom- 
municate him.     After  this  the  General  Council  is  called  and  his  condemnation 

0  0  2 


S64  LIFE   OF  CARDINAL  NEWiMAN 

passed— on  which  the  Kmperor  banishes  }iiin.  Now  where  and  in  what  lay  the 
infallible  voice?  if  they  had  iieen  asked,  I  suppose,  they  could  not  have  told — 
viz.  whether  it  lay  in  the  whole  process  as  being  the  result  of  it,  or  in  the  Council 
or  in  the  Pope,  or  again,  taking  the  Pope  by  himself,  while  they  would  understand 
that  an  infallible  decision  followed  on  his  voice.  Slill  they  would  not  be  able  to 
say  whether  he  spoke  by  his  own  intrinsic  absolute  authority,  or  as  the  voice  and 
organ  of  the  whole  Church,  who  spoke  through  him. 

'  This  too  must  be  considered — that  the  infallibility  of  the  Church  (or  of  the 
Pope)  is,  as  far  as  I  know,  a  novel  phrase.  The  infallibility  of  the  Church  has 
never  been  defined  as  a  dogma  (except  indirectly  in  the  late  Vatican  Council). 
The  form  which  the  doctrine  took  was  to  say  that  the  point  in  dispute,  when  once 
decided,  was  "  irreformable,"  it  was  settled  once  for  all,  it  was  part  of  the 
Catholic  faith.  Therefore  attention  was  centred  in  the  thing,  not  in  the  person — 
and,  though  of  course  it  could  not  be  settled  for  good  in  one  certain  way,  unless 
the  parties  settling  it  were  infallible,  this  view  of  the  subject  did  not  prominently 
some  before  the  Pope  or  the  Bishops.  This  is  what  I  have  meant  to  say  on  your 
first  question. 

'  Your  second,  I  think,  was  this  —  "  If  the  Schola  Theologoruni  decides  the 
meaning  of  a  Pope  or  a  Council's  words,  the  Schola  is  infallible,  not  Ihcy  or  hc.^'' 
'  In  answer  to  this  I  observe  that  there  are  no  words,  ever  so  clear,  but  require 
an  interpretation,  at  least  as  to  their  extent.  Yox  instance,  an  inspired  writer 
says  that  "  God  is  love  " — but  supposing  a  set  of  men  so  extend  this  as  to  con- 
clude— ^^ therefore  \!tv&i&  is  no  future  punishment  for  bad  men?"  Some  power 
then  is  needed  to  determine  the  general  sense  of  authoritative  words — to  determine 
their  direction,  drift,  limits,  and  comprehension,  to  hinder  gross  perversions. 
This  power  is  virtually  the  passive  infallibility  of  the  whole  body  of  the  Catholic 
people.  The  active  infallibility  lies  in  the  Pope  and  Bishops — the  passive  in  the 
"  universitas  "  of  the  faithful.  Hence  the  maxim  "  securus  judicat  orbis  terraruni." 
The  body  of  the  faithful  never  can  misunderstand  what  the  Church  determines  by 
the  gift  of  its  active  infallibility.  Here  on  the  one  hand  I  observe  that  a  local 
sense  of  a  doctrine,  held  in  this  or  that  country,  is  not  a  "  sensus  universitatis," — 
and  on  tlie  other  hand  the  Schola  Theologorum  is  one  chief  portion  of  that 
universitas — and  it  acts  with  great  force  both  in  correcting  popular  misapprehen- 
sions and  narrow  views  of  the  leaching  of  the  active  infallibililas,  and,  by  the 
intellectual  investigations  and  disputes  which  are  its  very  life,  it  keeps  the  dis- 
tinction clear  between  theological  truth  and  theological  opinion,  and  is  the 
antagonist  of  dogmatism.  And  while  the  differences  of  the  School  maintain  the 
liberty  of  thought,  the  unanimity  of  its  members  is  the  safeguard  of  the  infallible 
decisions  of  the  Church  and  the  champion  of  faith. 
'  I  wonder  whether  I  haye  made  myself  clear.' 

To  Henry  Bedford,  Esq. 

'  The  Oratory  ;  November  30,  1S75. 

'  Thank  you  for  your  affectionate  letter. 

'I  don't  feel  so  vexed  at  Mr.  Ward,  as  you  are  in  your  kindness  for  me.  lie 
has  a  right  to  his  say— and  I  don't  know  that  we  had  any  right  to  expect  that  he 
would  sit  down  quiet,  when  I  had  delivered  so  fierce  a  protest  against  him.  All 
one  can  say  is,  that  since  he  had  the  first  word,  he  need  not  have  determined  to 
have  the  last  word  too.  However,  I  only  wished  an  opportunity  of  making  my 
protest — that  I  have  done — and  he  cannot  undo  the  fact  that  I  have  made  it — 
and,  by  making  it,  have  recorded  that  all  Catholics  do  not  agree  with  him,  and 
that  he  is  not  the  spokesman  for  the  orbis  tcrraruin. 


APPENDICES  565 

'  As  to  Oxford,  Father  Gallwey  asked  me  to  preach  at  the  opening  of  the 
Church.  He,  and  the  Jesuits  all  along  have  shown  me  nothing  but  kindness  and 
sympathy.  I  did  not  preach,  because  for  this  twenty  years  and  more  I  have 
preached  nowhere  but  in  my  own  Church.  There  have  been  one  or  two  excep- 
tions which,  for  one  reason  or  other,  I  could  not  help  making.  Also,  I  am  too 
old  now  to  preach,  and  have  long  said  that  even  exceptions  are  not  to  be  in 
future. 

'  I  repeat,  from  first  to  last  I  have  had  nothing  but  kindness  from  the  Jesuits. 
It  is  not  they  who  have  kept  me  from  work.' 

The  following  is  the  letter  referred  to  at  p.  407  : 

Mr.  William  George  Ward  to  Dr.  Newman. 

'  Weston  Manor,  Isle  of  Wight  :  20th  January,  1S75. 

*  My  dear  Father  Newman, — I  was  so  engaged  yesterday  in  business  con- 
nected with  our  forthcoming  number  that  I  could  not  give  your  letter  my  attention. 
But  I  was  extremely  glad  to  see  your  handwriting  again  after  some  interval,  and 
am  grateful  also  for  your  various  kind  expressions.  I  infer  that  you  would 
wish  me  rather  to  answer  said  letter  than  merely  acknowledge  its  receipt,  so  I  will 
try  to  answer  what  you  say  point  by  point.  I  have  taken  up  my  best  pen,  so  us 
to  minimise  (not  indeed  doctrine  but)  your  trouble  in  deciphering  me.  At  last 
you  can  throw  it  unread  into  the  fire  if  it  bores  you. 

'  I  see  most  clearly  and  admit  most  readily  that  you  had  no  legitimate  alterna- 
tive between  either  not  writing  at  all  or  including  in  your  pamphlet  what  y(ju 
consider  a  just  rebuke  of  our  exorbitances.  My  grief  is  not  that  you  say  what  you 
say,  but  that  you  think  it. 

'  I  feel  sensibly  your  kind  eulogy  of  my  straightforwardness. 

'  Your  chief  charge  against  me  is  that  I  "  make  my  own  belief  the  measure  of 
the  belief  of  others."  As  these  words  stand  they  do  not  convey  to  me  any 
definite  idea.  But  it  seems  to  me  that  the  difference  between  you  and  me  (I  do 
not  wish  at  all  to  under-rate  it)  may  be  understood  by  some  such  explanation  as 
this. 

'  It  has  always  appeared  to  me  that  a  Catholic  thinker  or  writer  ought  to  aim 
at  this:  viz.,  so  to  think  and  write,  as  he  judges  that  the  Holy  See  (interpreted 
by  her  ofllcial  Acts,  and  due  regard  being  had  to  individual  circumstances)  would 
wish  him  to  think  and  write.  I  have  often  said  in  the  Diihlin  Review  that 
peace  and  truth  are  in  some  sense  necessarily  antagonistic  ;  that  every  proclama- 
tion of  a  truth  is  a  disturbance  of  peace.  I  have  then  gone  on  to  say  that  whether 
or  no  in  some  given  case  the  interest  of  souls  would  suffer  most  by  the  proclama- 
tion or  the  withholding  of  some  given  truth —that  this  question  is  one  which 
ordinary  men  (I  mean  not  specially  helped  by  God)  cannot  even  appro.ximale  to 
deciding  ;  that  consequently  is  one  of  the  very  chief  gifts  bestowed  upon  the 
Pope,  that  in  his  authoritative  teaching  he  can  so  decide. 

'  By  a  further  consequence,  I  have  thought  it  might  very  often  be  a  duty  to 
persuade  Catholics  (if  one  can)  that  certain  beliefs  are  obligatory  on  them  which 
as  yet  they  do  not  recognise.  I  have  thought  that  this  was  one's  duty,  whenever 
it  should  seem  to  one  (after  due  deliberation)  that  the  Holy  See  is  desiring  to 
enforce  this  obligation  ;  and  on  the  other  hand  I  have  always  said  that  truths, 
which  one  might  think  to  have  been  infallibly  declared,  ought  not  on  that  account 
to  be  brought  forward,  imless  there  are  signs  tliat  the  Holy  See  wishes  them  to 
l)e  now  brought  forward  (I  refer  to  truths  other  than  the  dogmata  of  the  fiiith, 


566  LIFE   OF  CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

though  connected  intimately  with  them).  And  I  have  thought  that  the  "  peace 
and  unity  "  which  as  you  so  truly  say  are  the  "  privilege  and  duty  of  Catholics," 
are  to  be  sought  in  one  way  and  no  other,  viz.  in  increasing  among  us  all  an 
ex  anivw  deference,  not  only  to  the  definitions  but  to  the  doctrinal  intimations  of 

the  Holy  See. 

'  I  have  written  on  at  dreadful  length,  but  I  did  not  see  how  otherwise  to 
explain  myself.  Now  I  am  daily  more  and  more  convinced  that  my  aim  has  been 
the  true  one  ;  but  I  am  also  daily  more  and  more  convinced  that  I  have  fallen 
into  grievous  mistakes  of  judgment  from  time  to  time,  whether  as  regards  what  I 
have  said,  or  (much  more)  my  way  of  saying  it.  I  may  say  with  the  greatest 
sincerity  that  the  one  main  cause  of  this  has  always  appeared  to  me  to  be  my 
breach  with  you.  Never  was  a  man  more  unfit  than  I  to  play  any  kind  of  first 
fiddle.  You  supplied  exactly  what  I  needed  ;  corrected  extravagances,  corrected 
crudities,  suggested  opposite  considerations,  pointed  out  exaggerations  of 
language,  etc.  etc.  When  I  found  that  you  and  I  (as  I  thought)  proceeded  on 
fundamentally  different  principles,  this  invaluable  help  was  lost ;  and  I  have 
never  been  able  even  approximately  to  replace  you.  If  you  will  not  laugh  at  the 
expression,  I  will  say  that  I  have  felt  myself  a  kind  of  intellectual  orphan.  I  may 
say  in  my  own  praise  that  my  censors  have  complimented  me  on  my  submissive- 
ness  ;  but  I  have  always  wished  to  submit  myself  much  more  could  I  have  found  a 
guide  whom  I  trusted. 

'  Excuse  this  tremendous  prolixity  of  egotism.  It  will  at  least  show  how  very 
desirous  I  am  that  you  should  think  less  ill  than  you  do  of  my  intellectual  attitude, 
and  that  your  rebukes  therefore  should  be  less  severe.  The  whole  colour  of  my  life 
has  changed,  I  assure  you,  from  the  loss  of  your  sympathy.  But  my  gratitude  for 
the  past  will  ever  remain  intact. 

'  Affectionately  yours, 

W.  G.  Ward. 

'  I  hope  I  am  not  dreadfully  illegible.' 

I  append  some  further  letters  and  memoranda  (see  p.  418)  which 
illustrate  the  thoughts  which  occupied  Newman's  mind  in  the  years 
covered  by  this  chapter.  The  decay  actual  and  prospective  of  Chris- 
tian faith,  and  the  thought  of  death  and  what  follows  after  death,  wer 
subjects  to  which  he  frequently  recurred. 


e 


To  Mrs.  Wilson. 

'August  3,  1874. 

'  I  think  our  Lord's  words  are  being  fulfilled,  "  When  the  Son  of  Man  cometh 
shall  He  find  faith  upon  earth  ?  "  the  plague  of  unbelief  is  in  every  religious  com- 
munity, in  the  Unitarian,  in  the  Kirk,  in  the  Episcopalian,  in  the  Church  of 
England,  as  well  as  in  the  Catholic  Church.  What  you  want  is  faith,  just  as  so 
many  persons  in  other  communions  want  faith.  The  broad  section  of  the  Church 
of  England  wants  faith— you  in  the  Catholic  Church  want  faith.  The  disease  is 
the  same,  though  its  manifestations  are  different. 

'  It  is  a  moral  disease,  and  therefore  there  must  be  some  fault  in  those  who 
are  afflicted  with  it.  They  ought  to  strive  and  to  pray,  and  sooner  or  later  they 
would  get  the  better  of  it.  There  is  no  proof  they  do.  I  wish  to  speak  with 
great  tenderness  of  you,  because  I  should  be  most  presumptuous,  if  I  spoke  lightly 
of  temptations  from  which  God's  mercy,  and  that  alone,  has  protected  me,— 


APPENDICES  567 

but  as  far  as  I  see,  I  do  not  think  you  have  with  a  resohite  heart,  and  with 
earnestness,  fought  the  battle  of  your  soul.  I  know  others  who,  with  greater 
disadvantages  than  I  suppose  yours  are,  have  been  brave,  and  determined,  and, 
though  they  have  been  knocked  down,  have  got  up  again,  and  fought  on.  They 
will  have  their  reward,  and  it  will  be  great.  St.  Philip  says,  "  Paradise  is  not 
meant  for  cowards,"  and,  when  I  see  such  instances  of  courage,  I  feel  how  little 
I  have  myself  done  in  that  line — and  I  think  you  have  done  very  little  too. 

'  It  seems  to  me  that,  instead  of  going  straightforward  to  your  work,  you 
indulge  yourself  in  finding  fault  witli  priests,  whom  you  should  not  come  near,  and 
are  not  unwilling  to  provoke  them — that  you  do  not  make  the  best  of  things,  but 
take  pleasure  in  complaints.  I  may  be  wrong  in  points  of  detail  in  my  view  of 
you,  and  beg  you  to  pardon  me,  if  I  am— but  I  don't  think  I  am  wrong  on  the 
whole.  We  cannot  do  without ya/V/r,  and  faith  is  the  gift  of  God.  You  do  not 
seem  to  me  to  keep  before  your  mind,  and  to  realize,  these  two  awful  truths. 

'  I  have  not  written  to  you  sooner  because  I  have  had  so  many  letters  to 
write,  and  many  requiring  an  immediate  answer — and  sometimes,  when  I  had 
time,  I  forgot  to  do  so.' 

The  Intermediate  State. — Memorandum.  "'] 

'Aug.  29,  1875. 

'  A  few  days  ago  (on  August  22),  an  old  lady  died^suddenly  ;  so  suddenly 
that  her  daughter  had  gone  away  for  a  week — and  she  was  well  enough  to  enjoy 
the  garden — her  daughter  says  "  quite  suddenly,  from  the  breaking  of  something 
in  her  lungs. "  She  had  a  strange  dream  two  nights,  or  one  night  before  she  died. 
She  thought  her  daughter,  who  had  died  in  wedlock  ten  years  since,  appeared  to 
her  in  shining  light,  and  said  "  Mother,  I  am  permitted  by  God  to  come  and 
speak  to  )ou,  before  you  leave  the  earth."  She  then  asked  her,  "Are  you  in 
heaven  ?  are  you  happy  ?  "  "  Not  yet  in  heaven,"  she  was  answered,  "  but  O  so 
happy  !  Busy,  busy  for  God— doing  work  for  him."  The  old  mother  asked  what 
work?  "Not  employments  as  on  earth — we  see  and  know  so  differently," 
and  she  added,  "  I  cannot  tell  you  more,  than  I  am  permitted  by  God."  Her 
mother  asked  if  she  knew  what  passes  here,  she  said,  "  No,  nothing  since  I  left  the 
earth  ;  I  remember  my  own  life  perfectly,  but  nothing  after."  Then  she  asked 
by  name  after  her  husband  and  children,  and  each  of  her  brothers  and  sisters. 
This  dream  left  the  lady  "perfectly  radiant  from  henceforth."  At  this  time  she 
"seemed  quite  well." 

'  It  seems  to  me  a  very  remarkable  dream,  as  being  very  unlike  what  would 
occur  to  a  Protestant,  as  the  lady  was,  nay  to  most  Catholics.  First  there  is  no 
immediate  introduction  into  heaven  for  the  departed  soul.  Secondly  (tho'  nothing 
is  said  of  penal  suffering,)  there  is  definite  mention  of  the  "  quoddam  quasi 
pratum  "  of  St.  Bede  and  various  Holy  Virgins.  Thirdly  there  is  the  mention  of 
employments  which  cannot  be  described — which  is  a  metaphysical  thought  strange 
as  occurring  to  an  old  lady.  Fourthly  the  statement  of  the  soul's  ignorance  of 
what  goes  on  here  is  against  the  grain  of  Protestant,  not  to  say  Catholic  anticipa- 
tions. Fifthly  the  vivid  remembrance  (contemplation)  of  its  own  past  life  is  not 
commonly  attributed  by  Protestants  to  the  separated  soul.  And  sixthly  there 
is  no  suggestion,  which  is  so  familiar  a  thought  with  Protestants,  not  to  say  Catho- 
lics, of  the  dead  enjoying  the  society  of  their  dead  friends.  Where  did  the  lady 
get  the  ideas  which  make  up  this  dream  ?  And  then  its  coming,  if  there  is  no 
inaccuracy  in  the  account,  to  warn  her  of  her  approaching  death,  at  a  time  when 


5r,8  I.IFE   OF  CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

she  was  in  no  serious  state  of  weakness  or  with  other  physical  intin:iation  of  what 
was  coming. 

*  I  am  the  more  struck  with  the  dream,  because  I  have  either  long  or  at  least 
lately  held  about  the  intermediate  state  all  the  six  points  I  have  enumerated. 
The  first  of  course,  because  it  is  an  article  of  Catholic  faith— the  second,  since  I 
wrote  in  1835  "They  are  at  rest  &c."  The  third  I  have  thought  about  much 
lately,  our  dense  ignorance  being  painfully  brought  home  to  me  by  the  death  o^ 
friends  lately.  The  fourth  from  the  silence  of  Scripture  on  the  subject — of  course 
the  instance  of  saints  who  enjoy  the  beatific  vision  is  not  in  point.  Nor  does  the 
ignorance  of  the  departed  concerning  us  preclude  their  praying  for  us.  The 
fifth,  as  in  my  verses  in  1832,  "  My  home  is  now  &c."  And  the  sixth  from  the 
circumstance  of  the  resurrection  being  spoken  of  in  Scripture  as  the  time  when 
there  is  a  restoration  of  all  things,  and,  as  we  may  suppose,  a  meeting  of  friends. 
Before  that,  the  departed,  as  such,  are  not  members  of  the  heavenly  "Curia." 

'Not  till  then,  if  even  then  : — our  duty  being,  when  we  lose  those  who  have 
been  hitherto  the  light  of  our  eyes,  not  so  much  to  look  forward  to  meeting  them 
again,  as  to  take  their  removal  as  an  occasion  to  fix  our  thoughts  more  steadily, 
and  our  love,  on  Him,  who  is  the  true  Lover  of  Souls,  recollecting  the  great 
danger  we  lie  under  of  making  an  idol  of  the  creature,  instead  of  cherishing 
the  intimate  conviction  that  God  alone  can  be  our  peace,  joy,  and  blessedness. 

'  As  I  am  on  the  subject  of  dreams,  I  will  mention  one  which  was  granted  to 
a  young  lady  on  her  deatli  bed,  not  so  striking  in  its  contents,  nor  bearing  upon 
any  definite  doctrines,  yet  well  worth  remembering.  It  is  given  in  the  words  of 
her  brother. 

'  "  About  15  hours  before  she  died  she  was  with  my  Father  and  Mother,  and 
said  something  of  the  blessing  it  would  he  to  be  sure  she  was  saved.  My  Mother 
said  something  of  God's  mercy  which  made  her  rather  eagerly  disclaim  any 
'prying  into  the  secrets  of  God,'  and,  'she  should  know  in  His  good  time.' 
Then  she  shut  her  eyes  and  seemed  to  go  to  sleep.  All  at  once  she  opened  her 
eyes  and  stretched  out  her  arms  with  great  animation  and  said  '  Dear  I'apa,  dear 
Mamma,  I  have  received  the  seal  of  my  salvation  ;  we  shall  all  meet  again.  Call 
the  dear  boys  and  the  dear  girls.'  .  .  .  My  Father  and  Mother  both  declare  that 
it  was  not  the  least  like  wandering  of  mind.  Certainly  afterwards  all  she  said, 
which  was  little  enough,  and  at  intervals,  was  like  a  person  thinking  of  those 
about  her,  not  of  her  own  future  state.  When  we  came  in,  she  kissed  us  all, 
saying  'I  f/iuil-  something  to  everybody.'  To  me  she  said  'God  bless  you, 
dearest  Fred,  you  have  been  of  great  use  to  me.'  " 

The  following  is  from  a  letter  of  the  same  year  : 

'  Dec.  4,  1875. 

'  I  think  what  a  severe  purgatory  it  would  be,  tho"  there  were  no  pain  at  all, 
but  darkness,  silence,  and  solitude,  and  ignorance  where  you  were,  how  you  held 
together,  on  what  you  depended,  all  you  knew  of  yourself  being  that  you  thoiiglit, 
and  no  possible  anticipation,  how  long  this  state  would  last,  and  in  what  way  it 
would  end,  and  with  a  vivid  recollection  of  every  one  of  your  sins  from  birth  to 
death,  even  tho'  you  were  no  more  able  to  sin,  and  knew  this,  and  though  you 
also  knew  you  were. 

'  Or  again,  supposing  the  phenomena  of  sleep  and  dreaming  arise  from  the 
absence  of  the  brain's  action,  and  the  feeble,  vain  attempt  of  the  soul  to  act  with- 
out the  brain,  so  that  without  a  brain  one  cannot  think  consecutively  and  ration- 
ally, and  that  the  intermediate  or  disembodied  state,  before  the  elect  soul  goes  to 


APPENDICES  569 

heaven,  is  a  helpless  dream,  in  which  it  neither  can  sin  on  the  one  hand,  any 
more  than  when  a  man  sins  when  dreaming  now,  Init  on  the  other  cannot  be  said 
to  exercise  intellect  or  to  have  knowledge.' 

'  Sept.  10,  1876. 

'  I  suppose,  when  we  are  brought  into  the  unseen  state,  we  shall  find  things  so 
different  from  what  we  had  expected,  that  it  would  seem  as  if  nothing  had 
hitherto  been  revealed  to  us  ;  or  more  exactly,  it  will  be  like  our  first  sensations 
on  personally  knowing  a  man  whom  we  had  known  hitherto  only  by  his  writings, 
when  we  are  led  to  say  that  he  is  so  unlike,  yet  still  like  what  we  anticipated.' 

To  Dr.  Northcote. 
(Written  after  the  death  of  Mrs.  Wootten.) 

'Jan.  17th,  1876. 

'  My  dear  Northcote, — I  thank  you  for  your  very  kind  letter  which  has  just 
come,  and  thank  you  also  most  sincerely  for  your  intended  Mass  for  Mrs.  Wootten 
and  for  me. 

'  It  is  only  a  wonder  she  lasted  so,  and  it  has  been  God's  great  mercy  that  she 
lias  been  kept  here  for  us  so  long.  As  Pusey  reminds  me  in  a  letter  just  come 
from  him,  though  I  did  not  need  reminding,  40  years  ago  she  was  dying  every 
winter.  I  have  thought  her  going  for  the  last  year,  and  told  Fr.  St.  John  so. 
She  had  a  fall  last  summer  year,  which  must  have  been  a  great  shock  to  her — and 
Fr.  St.  John's  death  was  a  great  shock  too  of  another  kind — but  she  was  herself  to 
the  last,  vigorous,  active,  and  cheerful.  Our  boys  who  came  around  her  bed  as 
familiarly  as  if  she  were  up,  would  not  believe  it  was  her  deathbed,  and  she  was 
conversing  and  giving  her  judgment  on  ordinary  matters  within  a  few  hours  of  her 
death.  The  doctor  (a  Protestant)  said  he  never  met  a  person  with  less  fear  of 
death  though  she  knew  it  was  at  hand.  Her  only  anxiety  was  lest  in  dying  she 
should  in  any  of  her  words  or  acts  disedify  bystanders.  At  three  o'clock  in  the 
afternoon  she  was  as  bright  as  usual— she  suddenly  fell  off  at  six  or  seven — and 
died  at  eleven.     Her  last  word  to  me  was  "Jesus." 

'  I  am  not  forgetful  of  your  sister-in-law's  great  family  trials,  those  she 
mentioned  to  me,  and  those  she  did  not. 

'  Most  sincerely  yours, 

John  U.  Newman.' 

To  Mrs.  W.  Froude. 

'  The  Oratory  :  July  9,  1876. 

'  My  dear  Mrs.  Froude, — I  am  quite  ashamed  you  should  make  so  much  01 
me.  What  can  I  have  done  to  deserve  such  words  as  you  use  ?  What  can  I  have 
said,  when  with  you,  which  is  worth  Isy  making  a  note  of  for  the  benefit  of 
Hurrell?  This  only  I  know,  that  all  through  my  life  God  has  mercifully  given 
me  good  friends,  and  that  I  never  know  how  to  be  grateful  enough  to  Him  for  so 
precious  a  gift. 

'  In  proportion  as  you  love  me,  you  will  pray  for  me  that  I  may  make  a  good 
end.  When  a  i.^.an  gets  to  my  age,  the  awful  future  comes  before  him  vividly  and 
is  ever  haunting  his  thoughts.  I  am  quite  well  according  to  all  my  sensations, 
but  I  was  quite  surprised  at  Christchurch  to  find  what  a  unity  of  thought  and 
feeling  there  was  between  that  poor  girl  who  was  dying  and  myself  who  had 
no  illness  about  me.  We  seemed  both  to  be  going  beyond  tliat  dark  curtain 
together.' 


570 


T.IFE   OF   CARDINAL   NEWMAN 


To  Sister  M.  Pia. 

'  July  25th,  1876. 

•As  to  3'our  pictures,  where  would  our  Church  and  House  be  witliout  them? 
They  give  lirilliancy  to  every  one  of  our  dead  walls — they  are  evergreen  plants, 
lasting  winter  and  summer.  The  only  difikulty  I  felt  about  St.  Jane  Frances  was 
where  to  put  her.  As  to  St.  Francis  himself  it  is  now  twenty  years  that  I  have 
had  in  mind  to  give  an  altar  to  him — but  we  have  not  yet  space.  I  shall  hail 
your  two  pictures  with  great  satisfaction  when  they  come — and  so  that  of  dear 
Ambrose  too,  which  you  have  so  thoughtfully  done. 

'  I  went  to  pay  ihc  visits  you  speak  of  with  a  great  effort,'  and  had  no  accident 
except  slipping  down  a  staircase  without  hurting  myself.  This  time  two  years 
when  I  last  went  to  Jemima  I  managed  to  dip  my  foot  down  to  the  wheel  of  the 
rail  carriage,  and  rolled  under  the  wheel  of  a  pony  chaise.  My  ankles  and  knees 
are  so  weak,  that,  for  that  reason  alone,  I  dread  a  journey.  But  besides  this, 
travelling  always  makes  me  ill.  I  am  quite  well  at  home,  but  going  about  is  a 
great  trouble  to  me.  I  was  forced  to  take  my  last  journey — it  was  to  see  poor 
Eleanor,  nee  Bretherton,  who  is  dying,  and  is  leaving  four  children  apparently 
without  means  of  support.  It  did  not  take  many  hours,  and  I  was  not  with  her 
above  two  hours.  I  gladly  would  come  to  see  you,  if  I  were  sure  the  journey 
would  not  make  me  ill  before  I  got  to  you.  Pray  ask  your  Bishop  for  his  blessing 
for  me  and  all  here.  It  is  very  kind  in  him  to  send  me  a  message.  I  was  sorry 
to  hear  he  was  in  a  bad  state  of  health. 

'  To  scandalize  is  to  make  to  fall,  or  to  trip  up  against  an  obstacle.      We  may 

be  religiously  scandalized  and  irreligiously.     Things  which  ought  to  scandalize  are 

called  "  scandala  parvulorum  " — those  which  ought  not  are  "  scandala  Pharisae- 

orum  "—the  words  *'  little  ones  "  and  "  Pharisees  "  being  allusions  to  Scripture. 

Perhaps  this  isn't  what  you  want. 

'  Ever  yours  affly, 

J.   11.  N.' 

'  The  Oratory  :  Oct.  10,  1876. 

'  My  dear  Sister  Pia, — God  bless  you  for  your  thoughts  about  yesterday.  I 
grieve  indeed  at  your  sad  news  and  will  say  Mass  for  your  intention  about  your 
Brother.  You  never  can  have  an  idea  of  the  worth  and  power  of  prayer,  or  of 
the  great  efficacy  of  your  own  prayers  for  him  and  others,  till  you  are  in  the 
unseen  world.  He  does  for  us  "  exceeding  abundantly  above  all  that  we  ask  or 
think  according  to  the  power  that  worketh  in  us."  You  must  go  by  faith,  not  by 
sight. 

'  Thank  you  for  what  you  say  about  Frank.      He  has  formally  joined  the 

Unitarians.     My  hope  is  that  on  his  deathbed,  God  will  be  merciful  to  him,  and 

his  belief  in  our  Lord  may  revive. 

'  Ever  yrs  affly, 

John  li.  Newman.' 
To  Lord  Blackford. 

'  The  Oratory  :  Nov.  17,  1875. 

«  My  dear  Blachford,— Your  news  about  James  Mozley  shocked  rne  much.  I 
wrote  off  to  his  sister  and  his  sister-in-law,  but  neither  could  give  me  much  more 
in  the  way  of  information  than  the  word  "  paralysis  "  conveys. 

'  It  has  ever  been  to  me  a  terrible  idea,  because  its  first  attack  is  so  often 
utterly  without  warning,  and  because,  however  slight,  it  is  commonly,  in  elderly 

'  Farewell  visits  to  his  relations. 


APPENDICES  571 

men,  the  beginning  of  the  end.  James  must  be  nearly  60,  but  of  course  I  only 
recollect  him  as  a  young  man,  and  to  me  his  life  seems  scarcely  begun.  A  hasty 
word  I  spoke  of  him  broke  off  all  intercourse  between  us  when  I  became  a 
Catholic,  and  as  I  have  never  felt  sympathy  enough  with  his  mind  and  views  to 
make  efforts  to  renew  it,  and  he  has  never  come  in  my  way,  I  have  not  seen  him 
for  30  years.  I  sent  him  a  message  on  receipt  of  your  letter  about  him,  but 
Caroline  Johnson  feels  it  to  be  imprudent  as  yet  to  deliver  it  to  him.  He  is 
getting  better  every  day,  but  they  are  resigned  to  his  never  being  (juite  what  he 
was. 

'  This  complaint  is  the  penance  and  stern  memento  of  intellectual  men.  Mow 
many  in  our  time,  who  have  exercised  their  brains,  have  died  of  it  !  I  used  to 
have  a  list,  but  I  have  given  up  collecting  instances — among  my  own  friends, 
Keble,  Whately,  C.  Marriott,  G.  Copeland,  Ogilvie,  Woodgate,  E.  Churton, 
Ogle,  &c.  I  am  trying  to  think  what  James  M.  can  have  done  to  weaken  a  con- 
stitution which  everyone  thought  so  strong.  Has  he  been  over  excited  and  tried 
by  his  metaphysical  controversies,  which  I  can  conceive  might  be  very  distressing 
to  a  man  who  had  the  onus  of  an  argumentative  combat  with  the  responsibility  of  a 
Chair  ?  or  has  he  sat  up  late  at  nights,  which  I  suppose  is  very  wearing  ?  Even 
from  selfish  motives  I  am  always  trying  to  find  out  a  way  of  accounting  in 
individual  cases  for  what  seems  so  mysterious — the  appearance  to  self  and  to 
others  of  perfect  health  and  ordinary  strength,  and  then  the  sudden  failure  of 
one's  powers. 

'  As  to  your  paper,  let  it  be  only  a  squib  or  a  cracker,  yet  such  small  things 
may  kindle  a  great  fire,  and  this  I  meant  when  I  said,  I  hoped  you  would  have  to 
write  again.  As  to  your  being  only  half  a  metaphysician,  I  don't  know  who  is  a 
whole  one,  though  some  men  have  more  confidence  in  themselves  than  others. 
The  assumptions  of  Mill  are  for  an  able  man  incomprehensible.  For  myself  I 
am  very  far  from  agreeing  with  many  of  your  positions,  e.g.,  that  matter  is  "  that 
which  occupies  space";  I  am  utterly  ignorant  what  matter  is  objectively — 
phenomena  prove  that  it  exists,  but  not  what  it  is.  Therefore  space  is  only  the 
word  for  the  idea  of  a  break  in  the  continuity  of  phenomena,  and  is  doubly  sub- 
jective, as  depending  on  phenomena  which  are  subjective  and  as  being  bowed  out 
of  actual  existence  by  the  actual  continuity  of  phenomena.  Wliiie  we  thus  differ, 
is  not  metaphysical  science  in  abeyance  ? 

'  But  this  does  not  help  Mr.  Huxley  in  your  quarrel  with  him.  If  he  would 
be  modest  in  his  teaching,  he  would  be  tolerable,  but  from  all  I  know  of  him,  I 
must  consider  him  intolerant  and  therefore  intolerable.  Your  argument  anyhow 
is  good.  You  say  first,  we  must  from  the  analogy  of  self  and  of  our  experience  of 
others,  i.e.,  men,  (whom  we  determine  to  have  sensation  and  volition  from  external 
indications)  determine  from  like  indications  that  brute  animals  can  feel  and  can 
will.  How  is  this  conclusion  to  be  touched  as  regards  brute  animals,  without  our 
holding  that  our  friend  feels  nothing  when  he  is  subjected  to  a  surgical 
operation  ? 

'  Your  second  position  was  that,  tho'  there  was,  or  might  be,  such  a 
phenomenon  as  unconscious  cerebration,  yet,  because  there  was,  sometimes  in  the 
case  of  man,  it  did  not  follow  th;it  to  it  was  to  be  attributed  a//  that  seems  like 
sensation  and  volition  in  brutes,  or  else  we  might  similarly  infer,  that,  because 
patients  under  the  operatiori  of  chloroform  utter  cries  when  the  knife  touches  them, 
but  recollect  nothing  afterwards  of  having  suffered  pain,  therefore  none  of  us  know 
what  pain  is,  however  we  may  show  signs  of  it. 


ST- 


T.IFE   OF  CARDINAT.   NEWMAN 


*  This  is  how  I  understood  you — and  I  don't  see  how  you  are  to  be  answered 
— and  I  rejoice  that  Professor  Huxley  is  put  on  the  defensive. 

'  Yours  affectionately, 

John  H.  Newman.' 

To  Mrs.  W.  Froude. 

'  The  Oratory  :   Jany.  9,  1S77. 

'My  dear  Mrs.  Froude, — Thank  you  for  your  affectionate  letter  and  dear  Isy 
for  her  desire  to  write.  This  is  the  first  anniversary  of  Mrs.  Wootten's  death. 
Father  Caswall  was  then  quite  strong— attended  her  in  her  illness,  and  had  the 
whole  administration  of  her  will  and  property.  He  worked  hard  at  it  after  his 
wont,  always  busy  and  never  seeming  tired.  How  little  we  thought  that  he  was 
soon  to  be  laid  up  by  heart  disease.  I  le  went  off  to  Norway  to  attend  the  open- 
ing of  a  Church,  which  was  a  novelty  there,  and  was  seized  in  the  midst  of  his 
journey  back  with  a  sudden  breathlessness  at  niglit,  which  might  have  proved  fatal. 
His  death  is  now  a  question  of  months,  weeks,  or  days. 

'  He  is  one  of  four  very  dear  friends,  who  were  in  a  position  to  place,  and  did 
place,  themselves  and  all  they  had  at  my  service ;  Ambrose  St.  John,  Joseph 
Gordon,  Mrs.  Wootlen,  and  he.  His  wife  was  suddenly  carried  off  by  cholera  at 
Torquay.  The  next  day  he  made  a  will  in  my  favour.  It  was  but  a  sample  of  the 
devotion  he  has  shown  to  me  for  thirty  years,  to  me  unworthy,  as  I  may  truly  say. 

*  My  only  comfort  in  the  thought  of  having  so  many  friends,  (for  I  feel  I  must 
be  a  hypocrite,  and  taking  them  in,  that  they  are  so  loving  to  me)  is  that  they 
pray  for  me.  For  where  shall  I  be  hereafter,  if  I  have,  contrary  to  my  deserts, 
so  many  "  good  things  in  my  life-time  "  ? 

.'  All  best  wishes  for  the  New  Year  to  you,  William,  Isy  and  Eddie. 
'  W.  Mallock's  article  is  very  good.     Father  Ignatius  is  very  much  taken  with 
it.     If  you  write,  send  to  his  sister  my  best  New  Year  wishes. 

'  Ever  yours  affectionately, 

(Signed)  John  II.  Newman.' 

A  few  letters  on  theological  and  controversial  matters  may  be  added  : 
To  Mr.  J.  R.  MozLEY. 

'  The  Oratory  :  April  191b,  1S74. 

'  My  dear  John, — I  have  been  so  busy  since  I  got  your  letter  that  I  could 
not  help  delaying  my  answer.  Moreover,  I  was  puzzled  what  I  could  have  said, 
which  has  so  misled  you  as  to  my  meaning,  for  certainly  I  give  up  the  Catholic 
cause,  if  I  must  rest  it  either  on  the  intellectual  powers  which  it  develops  in  its 
adherents,  or  its  manifestation  in  them  of  a  moral  excellence  undeniably  superior 
to  the  results  of  every  other  form  of  Christianity. 

'My  view  of  the  drift  of  revelation  is  as  follows: — the  truths  in  the  natural 
order,  which  are  the  basis  of  the  sciences,  are  few,  clear,  and  have  a  ready  accept- 
ance in  the  world  at  large,  though  they  do  not  admit  of  demonstration  (as  that 

fact 
every  effect  must  have  a  cause) — but  those  which  point  to  a  system  of  things 
beyond  this  visible  world,  as  the  law  of  conscience,  the  sense  of  religion  &c.,  are 
delicate,  subtle,  fitful,  mysterious,  incapable  of  being  grasped,  easily  put  down 
and  trampled  under  foot. 

'  The  initial  truths  of  science  can  take  care  of  themselves — but  not  so  those  of 
religion  and  morals — and  therefore,  since  in  fact  they  often  (though  accidentally, 
in  the  action  of  life,  not  that  they  need)  come  into  collision  with  each  other,  the 
weaker  would  assuredly  go  to  the  wall,  had  not  the  great  Author  of  all  things 


APPENDICES  573 

interposed  Lo  support  them  by  a  direct  and  extraordinary  assistance  rom  Ilimseli. 
Revelation  then  is  the  aid  and  the  completion  of  nature  on  that  side  of  it  on 
which  it  is  weak. ' 

'  It  follows  that  to  suppose  it  will  teach  or  defend  those  natural  sciences,  which 
issue  in  a  large  organisation  of  human  society,  is  to  mistake  the  final  cause  of  Reve- 
lation— or  rather,  not  to  start  with  anticipating  that  it  will  (accidentally)  oppose 
or  seem  to  oppose  them,  is  to  fail  in  apprehending  duly  its  aim  and  outcome. 
Wlien  Our  Lord  introduces  the  rich  man  saying,  "  This  will  I  do,  I  will  pull  down 
my  barns  &c.  and  I  will  say  to  my  soul,  take  thine  ease  &c.''  and  then  commenting 
on  his  proceeding,  says  "Thou  fool  &c."  He  brings  out  emphatically  the  antago- 
nism between  the  prosecution  of  the  secular  sciences  and  Revelation — not  as  if  the 
science  of  farming,  not  as  if  the  enjoyment  of  this  life,  were  in  themselves  wrong, 
but  that,  as  men  are,  that  science,  that  enjoyment  will  inevitably  lead  to  an 
obliteration  in  their  minds  of  what  is  higher  than  anything  here  below,  unless  the 
sanctions  of  Revelation  (or,  as  I  should  say,  the  Catholic  Church,  which  is  the 
embodiment  of  Revelation,)  arc  present  to  support  and  enforce  those  higher 
considerations. 

'Coming  back  then  to  your  two  questions,  as  to  "organisation,"  "reasoning" 
<^c.    I   consider   these   to  be  natural    products  of  the  mind,  and  therefore  the 
authorities  and  officials  of  the  Church  make  use  of  them,  because  they  are  men, 
for  the  purposes  of  that  Revelation  of  which  they  are  the  guardians  and  defenders 
but  in  no  sense  profess  to  advance  them. 

'  As  to  your  other  question,  the  virtues  peculiar  to  Catholics,  I  think  there  are 
various  such— but  here  we  enter  upon  another  large  question — I  do  not  think  they 
make  a  show — that  is,  are  such  as  to  constitute  what  is  called  a  Note  of  the 
Church.  Our  Lord  Himself  foretold  that  His  net  would  contain  fish  of  every  kind 
— He  speaks  of  rulers  who  would  be  tyrannical  and  gluttonous — and  it  was  one  of 
the  first  great  controversies  of  the  Christian  Church,  issuing  in  the  Novatian  schism, 
whether  extraordinary  means  should  or  should  not  be  taken  to  keep  the  Church 
pure— and  it  was  decided  in  the  negative,  as  (in  fact)  a  thing  impossible.  Now 
when  this  is  once  allowed,  considering  how  evil  in  its  own  nature  Haunts  itself  and 
is  loud,  and  how  true  virtue  is  both  in  itself  a  matter  of  the  heart  and  in  its  nature 
retiring  and  unostentatious,  it  is  very  difticult  to  manage  to  make  a  "  Note  of  the 
Church  "  out  of  the  conduct  of  Catholics  viewed  as  a  visible  body.  Besides  it 
must  be  recollected  that  the  Cluuch  is  a  militant  body,  and  its  work  lies  quite  as 
much  in  rescuing  souls  from  the  dominion  of  sin  as  in  leading  them  on  to  any 
height  of  moral  excellence. 

'  Moreover,  in  the  course  of  iSoo  years  it  has  managed  to  impress  its 
character  on  society,  so  that  when  countries  fall  away  from  its  communion,  the 
virtues,  which  it  has  created  in  their  various  people  and  civil  polities,  continue  on 
by  a  kind  of  inheritance,  and  thus  the  contrast  between  the  realm  of  nature  and 
the  realm  of  grace  has  not  that  sharpness  which  is  seen  in  the  juxtaposition  of 
Romans  I,  21-32,  and  Rom.  XH. 

'And,  once  more,  civilisation  itself,  that  is,  the  cultivation  of  the  intellect,  has 
a  tendency  to  raise  the  standard  of  morals,  at  least  in  some  departments,  as  we  see 
in  the  history  of  philosophy,  e.g.  in  the  Stoics,  in  Juvenal,  Persius,  Epictetus  &c. 
and  as  regards  the  minor  virtues  of  gentlemanlikeness  ike.  ike,  and  ihis  again 
tends  to  blur  the  contrast,  which  really  exists  between  nature  and  grace,  the 
special  characteristic  of  the  latter  lying  in  the  motive  on  which  actions  are  done. 

'  This  argument  is  more  fully  stated  in  the  /dca  oj  a  University,  pp.  514  scq. 


574  LIFE   OF   CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

'  Lastly,  if,  after  these  remarks,  I  am  asked  in  what  I  conceive  in  matter  of 
fact  consists  the  superiority  of  well-conducted  Catholics  over  I'rotestants,  I  should 
answer,  in  purity  of  intention,  in  faith,  in  humility,  in  contrition,  in  chastity,  in 
honesty,  in  command  of  the  tongue. 

'  Yours  alTecly 

John  II.  Newman. 

To  Dr.  Northcote. 

'  Sept.  2oth,  1S74. 

'  My  dear  President,  — It  is  most  natural  and  becoming  in  the  holy  Community 
at  Westbury  to  be  zealous  in  behalf  of  their  great  saint ;  and  gladly  would  I  do 
anything  in  my  power  to  further  the  object  about  which  they  write  to  you. 
Moreover,  as  far  as  my  own  personal  feelings  go,  nothing  would  rejoice  me  more 
than  to  find  that  the  Holy  Father  had  pronounced  St.  Francis  a  Doctor  of  the 
Church.  But  it  seems  to  me  that  the  Holy  See  alone  has  the  means  of  judging 
\\  ho  they  are  who  have  by  their  writings  merited  that  high  honour. 

'  In  the  Canonization  indeed  of  Saints  it  is  intelligible  to  appeal  even  to  the 
popular  voice,  because  sanctity  can  be  apprehended,  not  only  by  good  Catholics,  but 
by  bad,  nay,  by  those  who  are  not  Catholics  at  all.  But  none  except  the  learned  can 
judge  of  learned  men,  and  none  but  the  Ecumenical  Doctor  of  the  Church,  the 
Holy  Father  himself,  can  pronounce  about  Doctors. 

'  For  myself  and  of  myself  your  letter  makes  it  necessary  for  me  to  speak.  I 
cannot  understand  why  the  existing  assemblage  of  Doctors  is  just  what  it  is  in 
quantity  and  quality.  It  is  easy  to  understand  why  St.  Gregory  Nazianzen  or 
St.  Augustine,  St.  Leo  or  St.  Thomas,  are  doctors  ;  but  why  should  St.  Peter 
Chrysologus,  St.  Isidore,  or  St.  Peter  Damian,  be  on  the  list,  and  St.  Antoninus 
or  St.  Laurence  Justinian  not?  I  cannot  make  out  by  my  own  wit  why 
St.  Alfonso  has  lately  been  put  upon  the  level  of  St.  Athanasius  and  St.  Jerome. 
I  do  not  even  clearly  understand  why  a  woman  has  never  been  pronounced  a 
Doctor  ;  for,  though  St.  Paul  says  they  are  to  "  keep  silence  in  the  Churches,"  he 
is  speaking  of  ecclesiastical  and  formal  teaching,  not  of  the  supernatural  gifts  and 
great  works,  of  such  a  one  as  St.  Catherine  of  Siena. 

'  The  conclusion  I  draw  from  this  is  plain.  If  I  should  have  made  such  mis- 
takes, left  to  myself,  in  determining  who  are  Doctors  and  who  are  not,  having  in 
the  view  the  existing  list,  how  can  I  possibly  tell  that  I  should  be  correct,  if  I 
pretended  to  judge  whether  that  great  and  beautiful  Saint,  St.  Francis  of  Sales, 
has  or  has  not  upon  him  the  notes  of  a  Doctor?  No — these  things  are  matters  of 
faith.  What  the  Holy  Father  holds,  I  hold  ;— I  follow,  I  do  not  go  before  him, 
in  so  deep  and  sacred  a  matter.  I  am  sure  Rev.  Mother  will  sympathize,  even 
though  she  may  not  agree  with  me. 

'  Ever  yours  very  sincerely, 

John  II.  Newman.' 

To  Canon  Jenkins. 

'  {Private.)  The  Oratory  :  Dec.  2,  1875. 

«  My  dear  Mr.  Jenkins, — I  return  to  you  the  forcible  incisive  letter  which  you 
have  paid  me  the  compliment  of  addressing  to  me,  and  I  have  no  difficulty  in 
saying  that  for  years  I  have  wondered  how  a  high  ecclesiastic  and  a  theologian 
could  write  some  sentences  which  Cardinal  Manning  has  written.  The  science 
necessary  for  a  theologian  and  the  responsibility  weighing  upon  an  ecclesiastical 
ruler,  one  should  have  thought,  would  have  precluded  indulgence  in  rhetoric. 


APPENDICES  575 

'  But  you  have  in  your  letter  solved  for  nie,  or  at  least  reconciled  me  to  this 
anomaly,  by  referring  to  the  history  of  Ennodius,  who,  a  bishop  (at  least  after- 
wards) and  (doubtless)  a  theologian,  shows  us  that  such  a  phenomenon,  unhappy 
as  it  may  be  in  its  consequences,  is  no  new  thing  in  the  Church.  But  I  do 
not  think  still,  that  that  precedent  can  be  used  for  your  particular  purpose,  or 
that  you  can  logically  infer  that  Cardinal  Manning  ought  to  go  on  to  formularize 
the  Pope's  impeccability,  because  he  has  used  vague  language  about  the  extent  of 
his  infallibility.     And  I  will  say  why. 

'  First,  let  me  say  that  1  thought  it  was  granted  that  the  Decretales  Hilde- 
brandi  were  not  really  Ilildebrand's— but  the  embodiment  of  his  general  views 
by  some  authors  of  his  school  after  his  time. 

'  Next,  the  fourth  and  sixth  Synods  sub  Symmacho  are  apocryphal — or  at 
least  the  5th  and  6th  as  the  BoUandists  show  in  their  edition  of  St.  Leo. 

'  For  the  sentiment  then  of  the  sanctitas  or  innoccntia  of  the  occupant  of  the 
See  of  St.  Peter  we  are  thrown  simply  on  Ennodius,  at  that  time  (I  think)  deacon 
and  secretary  to  Symmachus,  who  was  ollicially  employed  in  defending  his  master 
against  charges  of  immorality,  violence  etc.  I  am  not  aware  that  the  question 
of  the  teaching  came  in  at  all.  When  Ennodius  said  that  the  Pope,  as  such,  was 
officially  "sanctus,"  he  said  so,  not  as  driven  to  it  by  the  necessity,  or  as  a  way 
of  defending  or  proving  his  infallibility,  but  as  an  argument  in  favour  of  his  being 
free  from  the  imputation  of  those  bad  personal  deeds  which  he  was  charged  with. 
Because  then  Ennodius  would  prove  the  Pope  guiltless  of  certain  definite  sins  by 
the  general  proposition  "  He  is  impeccable,"  it  does  not  at  all  follow  that 
Cardinal  Manning  will  be  forced  on  to  impeccability  from  infallibility — for  a  fault 
in  teaching  would  not  be  a  sin  in  him  unless  it  was  wilful,  and  even  though  the 
enunciation  of  a  doctrine  were  in  a  particular  case  sinful,  still  it  might  be  true. 
Infallibility  and  impeccability  are  ideas  altogether  separable. 

'  As  to  your  letter  of  Nov.  23rd  I  wish  I  entered  into  your  difficulty  as  fully 
as  I  attempt  to  do.  You  argue  that,  if  the  Church  or  the  Pope  has  power  to 
announce  to  the  world  the  word  of  God  (as  being  a  sufficient  Authority  for  such 
an  act)  she  ought  also  to  have  power  to  infuse  into  the  hearers  faith  in  it — But 
then 

'  I.  Those  who,  like  the  Anglicans,  hold  the  infallibility  01  four  or  six 
Ecumenical  Councils,  must  allow  that  the  Third  made  Theotocos  a  point  of  faith, 
which  is  not  in  Scripture,  and  not  known  (except  by  that  very  Council)  to  be  an 
article  of  the  traditional  Depositum  Fidei,  and  that  the  sixth  Council  condemned 
the  doctrine  that  there  is  but  one  ivtpyeta  in  Christ,  which  is  again  condemned 
neither  by  Scripture,  except  by  inference,  nor  by  tradition.  If  she  did  not  supply 
grace  to  the  hearer  for  the  internal  acceptance  of  the  Pope's  Infallibility,  did  she 
for  the  acceptance  of  the  Theotocos  and  the  double  energies  ? 

'  2.  It  is  said  "  Obey  your  rulers,"  but  does  not  obedience  require  grace  as 
well  as  faith  ?  and  if  particular  precepts  are  binding  whicli  come  from  the 
Rulers  of  the  Church,  let  alone  the  question  of  grace,  why  not  doctrinal  teaching 
also? 

'  3.  And  further,  grace  is  a  gift  of  the  Church,  viz.  :  through  the  Sacraments, 
and,  if  obedience  is  gained  through  the  Sacraments,  why  not  faith  ? 

'  I  feel  extremely  the  more  than  kind  way  in  which  you  speak  of  mc,  and  you 
must  not  doubt  this,  though  I  don't  find  the  fitting  words  to  thank  you  for  it. 

'  Most  truly  yours, 

John  II.  Newman. 

'P.S. — I  have  been  so  interrupted  in  writing  this,  tliat  I  have  omitted  acci- 


57(3  LIFE   OF   CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

dentally  some  thoughts  which  would  have    brought  out    and  recommended  my 
arguments  more  fully. 

'  Kor  instance,  Ennodius'  harangue  is  that  of  a  counsel  for  the  Pope.  It 
would  seem  as  if  he  found  facts  to  be  stubborn  things  or  thought  that  to  go  into 
the  details  of  the  charges  against  his  master  was  dangerous  or  wearisome,  or 
endless,  so  he  takes  a  showy  line  and  says  "  Can  you  conceive  how  a  successor  of 
St.  Peter  on  whom  the  shadow  of  St.  Peter  falls  can  possibly  be  allowed  to  fall 
into  sin  "—(just  as  the  counsel  for  a  defendant  might  say  "  Here  is  the  son  of  a 
most  religious  and  honourable  family,  can  you  fancy  his  doing  this  dishonesty?") 
And  he  shews  that  this  is  his  meaning  by  saying  "It  is  not  at  all  consistent  with 
that  piety  which  we  ought  to  feel  to  so  great  an  official  to  question  his  doings 
instead  of  leaving  the  judgment  to  Almighty  God." 

'J.  H.  N.' 

To  THE  Same. 

'  The  Oratory,  Rednal  :  Feb.  27,  1S77. 

*  My  dear  Mr.  Jenkins, — Your  letter  is  very  learned,  important  and  interest- 
•ng,  and  opens  a  large  field  for  thought.  I  feel  it  to  be  a  great  compliment  that 
you  address  it  to  me — very  much  more  than  I  can  claim.  IJut,  please  do  not  call 
my  Volume  on  the  Arians  "  great,"  it  is  not  even  little.  It  was  to  have  been,  in 
Mr.  Rose's  intention,  the  beginning  of  a  Manual  on  the  Councils,  and  the  gun 
went  oft"  in  quite  another  direction,  hitting  no  mark  at  all  ;  and  then,  too,  I  was 
obliged  to  finish  it  by  a  fixed  day,  and  had  to  hurry  the  last  pages  especially,  till 
I  knocked  myself  up. 

'  And  now  I  have  forgotten  what  I  once  knew,  and  do  not  recollect  enough 
to  criticise  you  and  to  say  whether  I  follow  you  or  not  in  your  argument.  I  do 
not  follow  you  in  your  interpretation  of  the  Ephesine  prohibition.  In  my 
"  Prophetical  Office"  I  had  taken  the  usual  Anghcan  view  of  it : — but,  under  date 
of  July  15,  1839,  only  two  years  after  my  book  came  out,  I  lind  I  had  made  this 
pencil  note  in  the  margin—"  I  very  much  doubt,  having  now  read  the  Acts  and 
History  of  the  Council  of  Chalcedon,  whether  my  use  of  it  here  is  fair." 

'  I  agree  with  you  in  one  thing  ;  though  I  grieve  to  say  my  antithesis  to  it  and 
conclusion  from  it  is  different. 

'  The  more  one  examines  the  Councils,  the  less  satisfactory  they  are.  My 
reflection  is,  the  less  satisfactory  they,  the  more  majestic  and  trust-winning,  and 
the  more  imperatively  necessary,  is  the  action  of  the  Holy  See. 

'J.  H.  N.' 

To    THE    S.\ME. 

'  Tlie  Oratory  :   April  6,  1877. 

'  My  dear  Mr.  Jenkins, — I  thank  you  heartily  for  your  most  kind  and 
sympathetic  letter,  and  I  return  you  your  Easter  greetings  very  sincerely. 

'  Also  for  the  valuable  Easter  present  you  sent  me. 

'  I  am  ashamed  to  receive  so  many  things  from  you,  but  they  will  keep  up 
your  memory  in  our  library. 

'  It  is,  as  you  say,  a  most  cloudy  time  — clouds  which  both  poitend  ill  for  our 
religious  future  and  conceal  it.  What  is  coming  ?  Yet  evil  has  often  before  now 
threatened  and  passed  away.  These  signs  in  the  sky  are  doubtless  those  which 
will  precede  the  end  in  all  things;  yet  in  foimer  times  they  have  fadtd  away 
instead  of  becoming  clearer,  and  so  it  may  be  now.  But,  whether  religion  is  to 
be  utterly  cast  out  or  no  anyliow  I  fear  there  is  coming  on  us  a  time  of  fierce  trial 


APPENDICES  577 

for  Christianity,  and  one  is  naturally  led  to  think  with  compassion  and  anxiety  on 
the  danger  that  will  come  on  many  of  the  fresh  innocent  souls  all  around  us  who 
are  now  entering  into  life. 

'  I  am,  very  sincerely  yours, 

John  H.  Newman. 

'  The  Pope  is  the  key  note,  the  Bishops  the  third,  the  Priests  the  5th,  the 
people  the  octave  and  the  Protestants  the  flat  7th  which  needs  resolving.  — J.  II.  N.' 

To  Father  Coleridge, 

'  The  Oratory  :  April  loth,  1877. 

'My  dear  Fr.  Coleridge,  —  Confidential.  I  want  to  ask  you  a  question. 
Rivington  wishes  to  publish  a  selection  (say  50)  of  my  "  Parochial  and  Plain 
Sermons."  I  have  made  it  a  condition  that  such  only  shall  be  selected  as  are  able 
to  stand  a  Catholic  censorship,  knowing  that  the  want  of  this  hinders  Catholics 
from  using  them.  Not  that  I  mean  to  alter  a  word  of  Copeland's  text  of  them, 
nor  that  I  mean  it  to  be  stated  that  they  have  an  Imprimatur.  But  I  mean  to 
publish  them  as  from  myself  and  not  from  Copeland  as  editor,  and  I  mean  to 
pluck  out  all  of  those  selected  which  have  anything  un-catholic  in  them. 
(Perhaps  you  will  say,  "  Then  they  will  all  be  plucked.") 

'  Now  my  question  is  this,  if  you  will  in  confidence  answer  it.  Would 
P"r.  Harper  undertake  the  office  of  censor,  his  name  being  kept  secret  ?  has  he 
time  and  health  for  it  ?  is  he  the  man  ?  would  he  be  fair,  both  to  Catholics  and 
to  my  Sermons? 

*  I  add  below  the  advertisement  I  contemplate. 

'  Most  sincerely  yours, 

John  II.  Newman. 
'  Advertisement. 

'In  publishing  in  one  Volume  a  selection  from  his  "Parochial  and  Plain 
Sermons,"  the  Author  has  been  careful  to  follow  faithfully  the  te.xt  as  it  stands  in 
Mr.  Copeland's  Edition  of  them.  At  the  same  time  he  is  glad  to  be  able  to  state 
that  they  do  not  contain  a  word  which,  as  a  Catholic,  he  would  wish  to  alter.' 


APPENDIX   TO   CHAPTER    XXXIII 

The  following  are  letters,  some  of  them  of  considerable  importance, 
relating  to  the  conferring  of  the  Cardinal's  Hat  on  Dr.  Newman  (see 
p.  450).  Some  of  them  show  his  own  feeling  and  the  feelings  of 
English  Catholics  at  the  time.  Others  are  the  official  and  semi-official 
communications  on  the  occasion. 

Cardinal  Manning  to  Cardinal  Nina. 

'  The  Duke  of  Norfolk  and  the  Mart  -  is  of  Ripon  have  represented  to  me 
on  their  own  part,  and  on  the  part  of  Lord  Petre,  a  strong  desire,  which  is  shared 
in,  as  they  state,  by  many  of  the  Catholics  of  this  country,  that  the  Holy  See 
should  manifest,  by  some  public  and  conspicuous  act,  its  sense  of  the  singular  and 
unequalled  services  rendered  by  Dr.  Newman  to  the  Catholic  Faith  and  to  the 
Catholic  Church  in  England. 

'  He  was  the  chief  agent  in  the  intellectual  movement  which  in  1833  stirred 
the  University  of  Oxford  towards  the  Catholic  Faith. 

VOL.   II.  P  P 


578 


LIFE   OF  CARDINAL   NEWMAN 


'  The  fact  of  his  submission  to  the  Church  has  done  more  to  awaken  the  mind 
of  Englishmen  to  the  Catholic  religion  than  that  of  any  other  man.  Many  both 
directly  and  indirectly  have  been  brought  by  his  example  to  the  Catholic  Church. 
His  writings  both  before  and  after  his  conversion  have  powerfully  contributed  to 
the  rise  and  extension  of  llie  Catholic  literature  in  England  and  wheresoever  tlie 
English  tongue  is  spoken. 

'  The  veneration  for  his  powers,  his  learning,  and  his  life  of  singular  piety  and 
integrity  is  almost  as  deeply  felt  by  the  non-Catholic  population  of  this  country  as 
l)y  the  members  of  the  Catholic  Church.  In  the  rise  and  revival  of  Catholic  Failh 
in  England  there  is  no  one  whose  name  will  stand  in  history  with  so  great  a  pro- 
minence. Nevertheless  he  has  continued  for  thirty  years  without  any  token  or 
mark  of  the  confidence  of  the  Holy  .See:  and  this  apparent  passing  over  of  his 
great  merits  has  been  noted  both  among  Catholics  and  non-Catholics,  as 
implying  division  among  the  faithful  in  England,  and  some  unexplained  mistrust 
of  Dr.  Newman.  It  is  obviously  not  only  most  desirable  that  this  should  be 
corrected,  but  obviously  right  that  Dr.  Newman  should  be  cleared  of  any  unjust 
suspicion. 

'  He  is  now  in  his  seventy-eighth  year  and  his  life  cannot  be  long.  The  oppor- 
tunity in  which  the  Holy  See  could  render  this  testimony  of  confidence  to  the 
singular  merits  of  Dr.  Newman  is  therefore  brief.  Such  an  act  of  the  Supreme 
Authority  of  the  Holy  See  would  have,  it  is  believed,  a  powerful  effect  in  demon- 
strating the  unity  of  the  Faith  in  England,  and  in  adding  force  to  the  impulse 
already  given  by  Dr.  Newman  in  his  life,  writings,  and  influences,  to  the  return  of 
many  to  the  Catholic  Church. 

'  Some  years  ago  Pius  IX.  designed  that  Dr.  Newman  should  receive  Episcopal 
consecration  as  Rector  of  the  Catholic  University  in  Ireland. 

'This  design  was  not  then  executed:  and,  when  subsequently  revived, 
Dr.  Newman  expressed  his  firm  resolution  to  refuse  such  a  proposal.  There 
remains  therefore  only  one  mark  of  the  confidence  of  the  Holy  See  to  so  dis- 
tinguished a  Priest.  And  no  greater  gratification  to  the  Catholics  of  England 
could  be  given  than  l)y  the  elevation  of  Dr.  Newman  into  the  Sacred  College. 

'  I  have  felt  it  to  be  a  duty,  very  grateful  to  myself,  to  convey  to  your  Eminence 
this  expression  of  the  desire  of  the  distinguished  Catholic  laymen  in  whose  name  I 
write  and  of  those  whom  they  represent. '  ' 


The  following  letters    were  written  after  the  announcement  in  the 
Times  that  the  honour  had  been  ofiered  and  declined  by  Dr.  Newman  : 

Canon  Oakeley  to  Dr.  Newman. 

'Feb.  1 8,  1879. 
'  My  dear  Newman, — I  do  not  know  when  I  have  heard  a  piece  of  news  that 
has  given  me  more  pleasure  than  the  announcement  about  you  in  Tlte  7'iines  of 
this  morning.  It  is  the  answer  to  a  prayer  I  have  again  and  again  made  in  the 
Mass  that  your  services  to  the  Church  might  receive  some  public  recognition  in 
j'our  lifetime,  for  indeed  I  fell  that  in  such  a  prayer  I  was  asking  something  for 
the  Church  as  well  as  for  you  ;  since  I  do  not  know  of  anything  which  is  more 
likely  to  win  over  to  her  the  mind  and  heart  of  England  than  such  an  act  as  that 
which  our  Holy  Father  has  done  in  offering  you  the  highest  ecclesiastical  dignity 

'  The 
neither  da 


:  autograph  copy  from  which  the  translation  into  Italian  was  made  is 
ated  nor  signed  ;  it  is  merely  headed  '  To  Cardinal  Nina.' 


APPENDICES  579 

which  it  is  in  his  power  to  bestow.  Of  course  I  could  have  wished,  as  many 
others  do,  that  you  could  have  seen  some  way  to  accept  it,  but  still  the  great  fact 
is  that  you  should  have  received  the  offer. 

'  Yours  affectionately, 

Fr.  Oakeley.' 

Lord  Blachford  to  Dr.  Newman. 

'  Feb.  i8,  1879. 

'  My  dear  Newman,  —So  you  refuse  to  be  a  member  of  the  Hebdomadal  Board 
at  Rome.  I  am  very  glad  that  the  offer  has  been  made,  as  it  makes  one  think 
pleasantly  of  those  who  made  it  (if  one  may  say  such  a  thing  without  disrespect). 
And  I  think  I  should  have  been  glad  to  see  you  a  Cardinal,  if  you  could  have 
had  the  office  without  accepting  it.  It  is  a  kind  of  recognition,  which  is  like 
putting  the  seal  to  a  document  which  is  to  go  down  to  posterity — a  proceeding 
which  sets  things  in  their  proper  places  for  future  history.  I  suppose  under  the 
circumstances  it  would  be  purely  honorary — as  my  imagination  wholly  refuses  to 
conceive  you  posting  uff  to  Rome  to  work  (to  speak  fofin  Bitllese)  with  those 
Italians. 

'  I  think  I  have  always  preferred  that  you  should  decline  things—  from  the 
beginning  of  time — and  so  I  go  on  to  the  end. 

•  ••••«• 

'  Ever  yours  affectionately, 

Blachford.' 

The  Marquis  of  Bute  to  Dr.  Newman. 

'  Feb.  19,  1879. 

'  Dear  and  Rev.  Dr.  Newman, — The  assertions  in  the  newspapers  that  you 
have  been  offered  or  are  about  to  be  offered  the  Cardinalate  have  assumed  a  form 
which  must  be  my  excuse  for  writing  to  you  upon  the  subject,  if  they  are  really 
unfounded.  iMy  object  is  to  implore  you  not  to  decline — I  know  that  St.  Philip 
declined,  and  that  you  will  have  a  tendency  to  do  the  same.  But  I  hope  that 
you  will  allow  some  kind  of  weight  to  my  opinion,  as  of  one  much  younger  than 
yourself,  and  one  who  sees  much  more  of  the  world,  from  which  you  live  so  much 
secluded.  I  would  most  respectfully  submit  for  your  consideration  whether  you 
have  any  moral  right  to  decline,  either  for  the  sake  ( i )  of  your  own  labours  and 
principles,  which  would  thus  be  sanctioned,  and  of  your  disciples,  who  have 
admired  the  one  and  received  the  other,  and  of  the  general  world,  to  whom  you 
would  thus  be  made  more  useful,  or  (2)  of  the  Sacred  College,  which  you  would 
(pardon  my  saying  so)  ennoble,  or  (3)  of  the  Pope,  who,  placed  amid  many 
difficulties,  calls  upon  you  thus  to  stand  by  him. 

'  Forgive  me  if  I  am  thrusting  myself  improjjerly  into  your  affairs,  and,  believe 
me  respectfully  yours, 

'Bute.' 

Lord  Coleridge,  Lord  Chief  Justice  of  England, 
to  Dr.  Newman. 

'  Feb.  20,  1879. 
•  My  dear  Dr.  Newman, — To-day  I  tliink  is  your  birthday,  and  you  must  let  a 
dutiful  and  loving  friend  who  owes  you  much  and  loves  you  truly— as  he  ought 
indeed — send  you  one  line  of  good  wishes  and  hopes  that  it  may  please  God  to 
grant  you  many  years  yet  if  it  is  as  good  for  you  as  for  your  friends.  Many  and 
happy  returns  of  the  day  I  send  you  with  a  full  heart. 

1'  P  2 


58o  LIFE  OF  CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

•  I  assume  that  the  notice  in  the  papers  of  the  ofier  to  make  you  a  Cardinal  is 
correct.  Nothing  could  make  you  to  us  greater  or  higher  than  you  are  ;  but  it 
may  be  allowed  me  to  say  that,  though  you  could  not  accept  it,  it  is  a  real  joy  and 
satisfaction  to  think  that  the  greatest  worldly  honour  which  the  Church  can  bestow 
has  at  last  been  offered  to  you. 

'Always  your  most  grateful  and  affectionate, 

Coleridge.' 

The  Marquis  of  Ripon  to  Dr.  Newman. 

'  Feb.  20,  1879. 

'  My  dear  Dr.  Newman, — I  cannot  resist  the  impulse  which  prompts  me  to 
tell  you  with  what  extreme  satisfaction  I  learnt  the  offer  which  has  just  been  made 
to  you  by  the  Holy  Father, 

'  Those  who  like  myself  owe  to  your  teaching,  more  than  to  any  other  earthly 
cause,  the  blessing  of  being  members  of  the  Catholic  Church,  must  rejoice  with  a 
very  keen  joy  at  this  recognition  on  the  part  of  the  Holy  See  of  your  eminent 
services  to  the  Church  and  to  so  many  individual  souls. 

'  I  do  not  venture  to  question  the  wisdom  of  your  refusal  to  accept  the  dignity 
of  Cardinal,  though  I  cannot  but  regret  that  you  should  have  felt  bound  to 
decline  it. 

'  I  believe  that  this  letter  will  reach  you  on  your  birthday  ;  if  I  am  right  in 
this  respect,  will  you  allow  me  to  offer  you  the  heartiest  good  wishes. 

•  Believe  me,  ever  yours  sincerely  and  gratefully, 

Ripon.' 

Archbishop  Errington  to  Dr.  Newman. 

'  Feb.  22,  1879. 

'Very  Rev.  dear  Dr.  Newman, — I  thought  I  had  passed  the  time  for  taking 
as  much  pleasure  in  any  piece  of  information  as  I  felt  in  reading  the  D.  of 
Norfolk's  letter  with  the  Resolutions  of  the  Catholic  Union  in  The  Times  of 
yesterday.  Most  warmly  do  I  congratulate  you  on  this  testimony  of  the  Holy  See 
to  the  long,  laborious,  and  wise  course  you  have  followed  in  the  service  of  God's 
Church.  Scarcely  less  do  I  congratulate  Catholic  England  on  the  effect  this 
testimony  from  his  Holiness  will  have  in  guiding  and  stimulating  the  cultivation 
of  the  vineyard. 

'  But  I  won't  waste  your  time  in  the  expression  of  my  own  gratification,  and 
so  conclude  with  a  very  earnest  hope  that  the  next  news  may  be  that  you  have 
been  created  Cardinal,  and  are  on  your  way  to  take  your  place  at  the  Council 
Board  of  the  Pope.  Though  the  expression  of  the  wish  of  the  Sovereign 
Pontiff  in  this  matter  may  be  equally  satisfactory  to  your  own  feelings  (probably 
much  more)  as  the  carrying  the  wish  into  effect,  it  cannot  have  the  same  fruits 
of  public  utility,  either  now  or  at  a  later  period. 

'  With  sincere  congratulations  to  your  Community, 

'  I  remain,  dear  Dr.  Newman, 

Yours  sincerely, 

^  George  Errington.' 

Dr   Hedley,  Coadjutor  Bishop  of  Newport  and  Menevia, 

TO  Dr.  Newman. 

'  Feb.  24,  1879. 
'  My  dear  Fr.  Newman, — In  common,  I  believe,  with  every  English-speaking 
Catholic,   I  desire  to  offer  you  my  respectful  congratulations,  and  to  say  how 


APPENDICES  581 

rejoiced   I  am   that  the  Holy  Father   has   intimated  his  wish  to  make  you   a 
Cardinal. 

'  I  cannot  speak  as  one  of  the  large  number  whom  you  have  helped  to  find  the 
true  Church.  But  I  know  English  Catholic  feeling  for  the  last  twenty-five  years. 
One  of  the  first  things  that  ever  stirred  me  and  lifted  me  up  was  your  sermon,  the 
"  Second  Spring,"  which  I  read  when  a  boy  at  school.  Since  then  I  can  testify, 
from  personal  knowledge,  that  the  whole  generation  of  Catholics  with  whom  I 
have  grown  up  have,  to  a  very  large  extent  indeed,  formed  themselves  on  your 
writings.  We  have  longed  for  you  to  speak,  we  have  devoured  what  you  gave 
us,  and  we  have  all  along  looked  to  you  with  pride  and  confidence,  as  to  a  leader 
and  a  father. 

'  I  pray  to  God  that  He  may  long  spare  you  to  labour  for  His  Church  and  His 
flock. 

*  With  great  respect  and  devotion, 

I  remain,  dear  Fr.  Newman, 

Your  faithful  servant  in  Christ, 

ti<  J.  C.  HEDLIiY,   O.S.B.' 

Mr.  Aubrey  de  Vere  to  Dr.  Newman. 

'  March  3,  1S79. 
'  My  dear  Fr.  Newman,— I  cannot  help  writing  you  just  a  line  to  tell  you 
how  deeply  gratified  I  have  been  by  the  great  and  signal  token  of  respect  which 
you  have  lately  received  from  the  highest  authority  on  earth.  It  is  what  I  have 
long  been  ardently  wishing  for,  in  common,  I  suppose,  with  all  English  and  Irish 
Catholics,  who  know  well  how  deep  a  debt  of  gratitude  they  owe  to  you,  and 
indeed  in  common  with  Catholics  of  all  countries — I  might  add  in  common  with 
many  who  are  not  Catholics,  judging  from  the  tone  in  which  the  subject  has 
been  treated  in  the  chief  journals. 

'  Some  of  the  journals  speak  as  if  the  final  issue  were  still  doubtful.  Should 
this  be  the  case  I  cannot  but  earnestly  hope  you  will  find  yourself  able  to  accept 
the  high  dignity  which  so  many  would  regard  as  itself  dignified  by  your  acceptance 
of  it,  that  is,  always  supposing  your  doing  so  imposed  no  burden  upon  you,  and 
required  no  alteration,  permanent  or  temporary,  in  your  usual  mode  of  life. 

'  Believe  me  ever. 

My  dear  Father  Newman, 

Affectionately  yours, 

Aubrey  De  Vere.' 

Dr.  Newman  to  Dr.  Brown,  Bishop  of  Newport. 

'The  Oratory,  Birmingham:  Feb.  24,  1870. 

'  My  dear  Lord,— ^I  lose  no  time  in  thanking  you  for  your  very  kind  letter. 

'  But  so  far,  though  not  more,  I  may  say,  that  the  statement  in  T/ie  Titiics 
is  incorrect,  and  that  I  have  not  received  the  ofier  of  a  Cardinal's  Hat,  and  there- 
fore have  not  declined  it. 

'  In  such  circumstances,  I  have  always  understood  silence  is  a  duty.  Certainly 
I  should  account  such  a  communication  as  sacred  myself. 

'The  statement  of  the  Catholic  Union,  which  has  done  me  so  great  a  service 
by  its  Resolutions,  and  so  high  and  kind  an  honour,  speaks  of  having  "  received 
intelligence  of  the  offer,"  but  does  not  speak  of  my  having  declined  a  Cardinal's 
Hat. 


582  LIFE  OF   CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

'  If  I  am  forced  to  speak  hypothetically,  I  should  say  that  I  do  not  anticipate 
my  friends  (among  whom  I  hope  you  will  allow  me  to  consider  your  Lordship) 
would  fiiil  to  pardon  me,  if  at  my  age  I  felt  it  impossible  to  migrate  from 
England  to  Italy. 

'  I  am,  begging  your  Lordship's  blessing, 

'  Your  faithful  servant  in  Christ, 

John  H.  Newman.' 

Dr.  Ullathorne,  Bishop  of  Birmingh.vm,  to  Cardinal  Nina. 

'  Feb.  II,  1879. 

♦  Most  Eminent  and  Reverend  Lord,— After  much  anxious  consideration  I  feel 
that  I  shall  hardly  have  done  my  duty,  unless  I  open  my  mind  to  your  Eminence 
in  regard  to  the  Rev.  Fr.  Newman,  to  whom  I  have  shown  your  gracious  letter, 
and  as  to  whose  disposition  of  mind  in  regard  of  accepting  the  Sacred  Purple 
I  have  carefully  inquired.  I  am  the  rather  moved  to  this,  because  a  report  has 
been  spread  in  London,  thougli  as  yet  it  has  not  reached  Birmingham,  that  this 
sacred  dignity  has  been  offered  to  Fr.  Newman,  and  thai  it  has  been  declined 
by  him.  Letters  have  come  from  London,  altogether  unknown  to  the  Fathers  of 
the  r>irminghani  Oratory,  stating  what  I  have  just  written.  It  has  not  been, 
certainly,  Fr.  Newman's  intention  to  decline  what  the  Holy  Father  has  .so 
graciously  offered,  but  simply  to  state  the  difficulties  of  his  position.  lie  is  a  man 
so  modest  and  humble,  especially  to  his  superiors,  and  above  all  towards  the  Holy 
Father,  that  in  the  letter  he  addressed  to  me,  he  wished  simply  to  e.xpress  his 
sense  of  his  own  unworthiness,  his  advanced  age,  his  state  of  health,  and  his  un- 
fitness for  living  in  Rome,  both  on  account  of  his  age,  and  of  his  want  of  readiness 
in  speaking  any  modern  language  but  his  own.  And  thus  he  said  to  me  :  "  How 
can  I  possibly  intimate,  or  in  any  way  suggest  conditions — it  would  be  altogether 
unbecoming."  I  answered  :  "  Write  your  letter,  and  leave  it  to  me  to  give  the 
needful  explanations."  And  thus,  in  addition  to  his  letter,  I  sent  another  to  the 
most  eminent  Cardinal  Manning,  in  which  I  gave  my  full  e.Kplanations.  But 
when  tlie  most  eminent  Cardinal,  in  acknowledging  the  receipt  of  the  letters,  said 
that  he  would  forward  Ur.  Newman's  to  your  Eminence,  without  a  word  about 
mine,  and  when  I  found  it  reported  and  believed  in  London,  that  Dr.  Newman 
had  shrunk  from  and  declined  that  very  great  honour,  I  began  to  fear  that  my 
explanatory  letter  had  not  been  sent  on  to  Rome. 

'  Wherefore,  by  way  of  precaution,  I  now  enclose  a  copy  of  my  English  letter 
to  Cardinal  Manning.  For  so  many  erroneous  statements  have  reached  Rome,  in 
regard  of  Dr.  Newman's  disposition  of  mind,  that  as  his  Bishop,  knowing  Ijetter 
than  most  his  modesty,  his  perfect  faith  and  charity,  knowing,  moreover,  the 
great  things  he  has  done  for  the  Church  of  God,  and  how  many  he  has  drawn 
from  heresy  to  the  Faith,  and  in  what  esteem  as  a  writer  he  is  held  by  all,  both 
within  the  Church  and  outside  it,  I  deem  it  a  part  of  my  duty,  in  a  matter  of  such 
grave  moment,  that  his  disposition  of  mind  should  not  be  misapprehended.  And 
if,  while  acting  with  a  good  intention,  I  err  in  act,  I  know  I  shall  be  readily 
forgiven. 

•  And  now,  kissing  your  Eminence's  hand  in  token  of  my  reverence,  I  have 
the  honour  to  be, 

'  Your  Eminence's 

Most  humble,  most  devoted  and  obedient  Servant, 

»J«  William  Bernard, 

Bishop  of  Birmingham.' 


APPENDICES  583 

Translation  of  the  official  notice  of  the  Pope's  intention  to  confer  on 
Dr.  Newman  the  Cardinal's  Hat : 

'(From  the  Vatican)  :  March  15,  io7y. 
'  Very  Rev.  Father, — The  Holy  Father  deeply  appreciating  the  genius  and 
learning  which  distinguish  you,  your  piety,  the  zeal  displayed  by  you  in  the 
exercise  of  the  Holy  Ministry,  your  devotion  and  filial  attachment  to  the  Holy 
Apostolic  See,  and  the  signal  services  you  have  for  long  years  rendered  to  religion, 
has  decided  on  giving  you  a  public  and  solemn  proof  of  his  esteem  and  good-will. 
And  to  this  end  he  will  deign  to  raise  you  to  the  honours  of  the  Sacred  Purple,  in 
the  next  Consistory,  the  precise  day  of  which  will  be  notified  to  you  in  due  time. 
'  In  forwarding  you  this  joyful  announcement  by  its  fitting  and  prescribed 
channel,  I  cannot  refrain  from  congratulating  your  Paternity  on  seeing  your  merits 
rewarded  in  so  splendid  a  manner  by  the  august  Head  of  the  Church,  and  I  rejoice 
in  heart  that  I  shall  very  soon  have  you  as  a  colleague  in  the  Sacred  Senate,  of 
which  you  will  not  fail  to  be  one  of  the  chief  ornaments. 

'  Accept,  I  entreat  you,  this  expression  of  my  regard,  and  at  the  same  time  tlic 
assurance  of  the  particular  esteem  with  which  I  sign  myself, 

'  Of  your  Very  Rev.  Paternity, 
{From  the  Vatican,) 

The  true  servant, 

L.  Card.  Nina.' 

Dr.  Newman  to  Cardinal  Nina. 

'  My  Lord  Cardinal, — Were  I  to  delay  my  answer  to  the  very  generous  com- 
munication your  Eminence  deigned  to  make  to  me,  on  the  part  of  his  Holiness, 
until  I  could  write  what  seems  to  be  befitting  and  adequate  to  express  all  the 
feeling  of  my  heart,  I  fear  that  I  should  never  write  at  all.  For  the  longer  I 
think  of  it,  the  more  generous  and  gracious  the  condescension  of  the  Holy  Father 
seems  to  me,  and  the  more  deeply  I  feel  that  I  am  altogether  unworthy  of  it. 

'  I  am  overpowered,  first  of  all,  by  the  weight  of  the  high  dignity  to  whicli 
the  Holy  Father  condescends  to  raise  me,  and  still  more  by  the  words  he  has 
used  to  announce  to  me  his  intention,  words  breathing  a  goodness  so  fatherly,  and 
implying  an  approval  the  more  touching  and  precious  that  it  is  the  Vicar  of  Christ 
who  awards  it. 

'  I  venture  to  hope  that  the  1  loly  Father  will  allow  me,  as  soon  as  the  weather 
becomes  milder,  and  the  journey  less  toilsome,  to  present  myself  before  his  sacred 
person,  that  I  may  try  to  tell  him  how  deeply  I  feel  his  immense  goodness,  and 
may  receive  his  apostolic  blessing. 

'  I  cannot  close  this  letter,  my  Lord  Cardinal,  without  begging  you  to  accept 
the  hom.agc  of  my  profound  respect  and  my  deep-felt  gratitude  for  the  kind 
courtesy  with  which  you  have  condescended  to  discharge  the  commission  of  his 
Holiness. 

•  I  have  the  honour  to  kiss  the  Sacred  Purple  and  to  be 

f  Your  Eminence's  most  humble  and  devoted  servant, 

John  H.  Newman.' 

Dr.  Church,  Dean  of  St.  Paul's,  London,  to  Dr.  Newman. 

'  The  Deanery,  St.  PaulV  :  March  12,  1879. 
'  My  dear  Newman, — I  too  have  been  wailing  to  be  certain  l)efore  writing  to 
you  ;  for  I  did  not  know  how  to  trust  the  newspapers  in  such  a  matter.     I  heard 


584  LIFE   OF   CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

incidcnlally  yesterday  from   Oakeley  thai  he  considered  it  certain  ;    and    was 
thinking  of  writing,  when  your  note  came. 

'  I  don't  know  how  to  thank  you  enough  for  writing.  It  is  indeed  quite  right ; 
one's  sense  of  justice  is  satisfied,  and  it  seems  like  the  accomplishment  of  what 
has  been  going  on,  at  least  in  England,  since  the  "  Apologia. "  It  is  indeed  wonder- 
ful to  look  back,  and  it  is  very  pleasant  to  see  what  curious  and  genuine  satisfaction 
it  gives  to  most  intelligent  and  well-feeling  Englishmen,  even  to  those  from  whom 
it  might  least  be  expected.  I  have  been  more  than  once  surprised  in  society  with 
the  hearty  expression  of  feeling  that  it  was  'ust  what  ought  to  be,  and  was  the 
proper  crown  and  finish. 

'  But  now  we  shall  not  know  how  to  behave  to  you.  It  is  as  if  you  had  been 
carried  up  among  Dukes  and  Princes  and  great  Court  people  and  none  of  my  old 
friends  has  risen  higher  th-^n  a  Viscount,  most  not  higher  than  Barons.  You 
must  tell  us  for  instance  how  to  write  to  you.  I  know  it  is  very  absurd  not  to 
know  all  these  things  by  instinct — but  one  doesn't. 

'  With  all  our  best  good  wishes  and  heartiest  rejoicings, 

'  Ever  yours  affectionately, 

R,  W.  Church.' 

Lord  Blackford  to  Dr.  Newman. 

'  March  14,  1879. 

*  My  dear  Newman, — It  is  very  kind  of  you  to  tell  me  at  once  of  the  com- 
pletion, or  at  least  the  completion  of  the  certainty,  of  your  Cardinalate.  I  am 
very  glad  it  is  as  it  is.  And  the  Pope's  letter  certainly  shows  a  very  pleasant 
power  of  saying  happily  what  is  true. 

'  I  suppose  it  does  not  make  a  journey  to  Rome  necessary.  Certainly  your 
going  to  live  there  would  have  been  an  impossible  uprooting. 

•  Knowing  how  particular  you  are  in  answering  letters,  I  began  half  to  think 
that  I  might  have  said  something  rude,  or  difficult  to  answer — and  I  was  the  least 
in  the  world  relieved  to  get  your  announcement. 

'  I  suppose  all  Cardinals  who  are  not  Diocesan  Bishops  have  to  reside  at 
Rome. 

*  Ever  yours  affectionately, 

Blackford.' 

Dr.  Clifford,  Bishop  of  Clifton,  to  Dr.  Newman. 

'  April  s,  1879. 
'  My  dear  Father  Newman, — I  write  these  few  lines  wishing  to  join  my  voice 
with  that  of  all  your  friends  in  congratulating  you  on  the  honour  which  the  Holy 
Father  has  conferred  upon  you  by  nominating  you  a  member  of  the  Sacred  College 
of  Cardinals.  There  are  many  reasons  why  all  your  friends  rejoice  at  your 
elevation,  but  the  reason  for  which  above  all  others  they  value  so  highly  this  act 
of  the  Holy  Father,  is  because  they  feel  that  by  it  the  highest  approval  of  Christ's 
Vicar  is  set  upon  all  that  you  have  laboured  and  written  for  the  cause  of  God's 
Church.  To  yourself  also  this  must  be  the  source  of  great  satisfaction.  I 
returned  to  Clifton  from  Rome  only  last  night.  When  I  saw  the  Holy  Father  he 
spoke  to  me  of  the  great  pleasure  he  felt  in  making  you  a  Cardinal,  and  he  is 
much  gratified  at  hearing  of  the  universal  satisfaction  with  which  his  choice  has 
been  received. 


APPENDICES  585 

'  I  sincerely  hope,  my  dear  Father  Newman,  that  God  will  give  you  life  and 
health  for  some  years  to  come  still  to  labour  for  His  glory,  and  to  enjoy  the 
honour  which  His  Vicar  has  bestowed  upon  you. 

•  I  remain,  dear  Fr.  Newman, 

Yours  most  sincerely, 

^  William  Clifford, 

Bishop  of  Clifton.' 

Fr.  Rossi  '  of  the  Oratory  at  Rome  to  Dr.  Newman. 

'  Rome,  from  the  Vallicella  :  March  23,  1879. 

'Very  Reverend  Father, — All  Europe  is  gladdened  at  hearing  that  our  Holy 
Father  Leo  XHI.  has  resolved,  for  the  glory  of  God,  for  the  honour  of  the  Catholic 
Church,  and  as  a  reward  of  your  many  labours,  to  honour  you  with  the  high  rank 
of  Cardinal,  and  give  you  as  a  stay  and  support  to  the  Church  itself.  Wherefore, 
although  I  am  still  very  weak,  from  a  serious  and  dangerous  illness,  I  cannot 
refrain  from  sending  you  my  congratulations,  and  this  for  many  reasons ;  especially 
for  the  gratitude  I  owe  you  continually.  Receive  then  this  very  sincere  expression 
of  my  feelings  :  like  that  of  the  poor  woman  in  the  Gospel,  who  could  offer  to 
the  treasury  of  the  Temple  only  two  mites — she  gave  all  she  had,  and  I  in  my 
insufficiency,  offer  with  my  whole  heart  all  I  can. 

'  Kissing  your  hands  and  begging  your  holy  blessing, 
'  I  am, 

Your  Eminence's  most  devoted  servant, 

Carlo  Rossi, 

Of  the  Oratory.' 

Dr.  Newman  to  Fr.  Rossi  of  the  Oratory  at  Rome. 
'  To  my  excellent  and  very  dear  Father  Carlo  Rossi,  Vallicella,  Rome. 

'  Birmingham  :  March  29,  1879. 
'  I  well  knew,  my  dear  father,  that  your  affection  towards  me  was  so  deep  that 
it  would  be  a  great  joy  to  you  that  the  Holy  Father  has  deigned  to  raise  me  to  the 
high  dignity  of  the  Cardinalate.  This  I  very  well  knew,  and  yet  I  feel  now  a 
two-fold  pleasure  in  receiving,  under  your  own  hand,  the  assurance  and  memorial 
of  that  joy. 

'  This  comes  to  increase  my  joy  ;  happily  I  hope  to  be  in  Rome  sooner  or 
later,  and  to  find  you  freed  from  illness  and  weakness.  The  seeing  you,  and  talking 
with  you,  will  be  much  better  than  the  reading  of  many  letters.  I  had  never  ven- 
tured to  hope  that  I  should  again  see  the  face  of  your  Paternity,  but  the  mercy  of 
God  has,  it  would  seem,  decreed  otherwise.  I  hope  to  be  with  you,  and  to  be  able 
to  talk  with  you  face  to  face,  "  that  our  joy  may  be  full." 

'  Believe  me,  very  dear  Father, 

Ever  your  most  loving 

John  H.  Nkwman, 

Priest  of  the  Oratory. 

'  Early  in  life  Father  Rossi  was  a  notable  Father  of  the  Oratory  in  Rome,  and 
it  was  he  who,  in  1S47,  was  appointed  by  Pius  IX.  to  teach  Dr.  Newman  the 
Rule  of  Su  Philip.  Father  Rossi  was  ill  and  away  from  Rome  when  Dr.  Newman 
was  there  in  January  1856,  and  thus  they  had  not  met  in  the  long  interval 
between  1S47  and  ib79. 


586  LIFE   OF  CARDINAL   NEWMAN 

The  following  letters— the  first  to  a  non-Catholic  friend,  the  other 
two  to  his  co-religionists— illustrate  what  has  been  said  in  the  text  of  the 
feelings  which  prompted  Dr.  Newman  to  accept  the  offer  of  the  Cardinal's 
Hat: 

^'^  '  Feb.  28,  1 879. 

•  Everything  has  two  sides.  Of  course  my  accepting  would  disappoint  these 
men,  but  declining  would  disappoint  those.  And  just  now  for  the  same  reasons 
would  their  feelings  be  contrary,  viz.,  because  my  accepting  would  show  the 
closest  adherence  of  my  mind  to  the  Church  of  Rome,  and  my  declining  would 
seem  an  evidence  of  secret  distance  from  her.  15oth  sides  would  say:  "You 
see,  he  is  not  a  Catholic  in  heart." 

•  Now  this  has  ailed  me  this  thirty  years  ;  men  won't  believe  me.  This  act 
would  force  them  to  do  so.  So  that  to  a  man  in  my  mental  position  your  argu- 
ment tells  the  contrary  way  to  what  you  anticipate. 

'  But  again,  as  to  what  you  kindly  call  my  "  post  of  deep  moral  value,"  this 
must  be  viewed  relatively  to  Unitarians,  Theists  and  Sceptics,  on  the  one  side,  and 
Catholics  and  Anglicans  on  the  other.  I  wish  to  be  of  religious  service,  such  as  I 
can,  to  botii  parties— but,  if  I  must  choose  between  Theists  and  Catholics,  "  blood 
is  thicker  than  water."  You  forget  that  I  believe  the  Catholic  religion  to  be  true, 
and  you  do  not.  It  is  not  that  I  am  insensible  to  and  ungrateful  for  the  good 
opinion  of  Theists,  but  Catholics  are  my  brothers,  and  I  am  bound  to  consult  for 
them  first. 

'J.   11.   N.  ' 

^'^  '  March  6. 

'  I  knew  what  gladness  it  would  cause  to  you  and  yours  to  hear  of  the  high 
honour  to  be  conferred  on  me  by  the  Holy  Father.  It  has  a  special  value  in  my 
case,  who  have  suffered  so  much  from  the  suspicions  which  have  been  so  widely 
prevalent  about  me.  My  writing  and  publishing  days  are  over,  and  I  am  looking 
for  a  far  more  solemn  Tribunal  than  any  on  earth  ;  but  one  naturally  likes  the 
good  opinion  of  one's  Catholic  brethren,  and  it  was  hard  to  receive  letters  to  the 
effect  that  I  was  under  a  cloud,  and  why  did  I  not  set  myself  right,  and  why  did 

I  take  part  with ,  and  Garibaldi?  Now  the  Pope  in  his  generosity 

has  taken  this  reproach  simply  away,  and  it  is  a  wonderful  Providence  that  even 
before  my  death  that  acquittal  of  me  comes,  which  I  knew  would  come  some  day 
or  other,  though  not  in  my  lifetime.  .   .  . 

'J.   H.  N.' 

(3)  '  March  29. 

'  Thank  you  also  for  your  congratulations  on  my  elevation.  It  has,  as  you 
may  suppose,  startled  and  even  scared  me,  when  I  am  of  the  age  when  men  look 
out  for  death  rather  than  any  other  change. 

'J.  II.  N.' 

The  following  is  the  unfinished  letter  to  William  Fronde  referred  to 
in  the  text  at  p.  466.  I  give  it  as  it  stands  with  the  later  additions 
in  brackets  and  the  suggestions  of  alternative  phrases  put  down  by  the 
Cardinal  above  some  of  the  words  he  had  at  first  used.  Here  and  there, 
however,  it  has  been  necessary  to  insert  a  few  words  to  complete  a 
sentence.     These  are  placed  in  square  brackets. 


APPENDICES  587 

'  Rome  :  April  29,  1879. 

'  I  have  been  much  touched  by  your  consideration  for  me  in  writing  to  me, 
when  you  would  put  into  shape  your  thoughts  upon  rehgion,  thus  putting  me  in 
your  affection  and  regard,  on  a  level  with  dear  Ilurrell ;  and  I  wish  I  had  just 
now  leisure  enough  and  vigour  of  mind  enough  to  answer  your  letter  so  thoroughly 
as  I  think  it  could  be  answered,  and  as  its  delicacy  and  tenderness  for  me  deserves. 
But  I  will  set  down  just  as  it  strikes  me  on  reading,  having  no  books  and 
depending  mainly  on  my  memory. 

'  My  first  and  lasting  impression  is  that  in  first  principles  we  agree  together 
more  than  you  allow  ;  and  this  is  a  difficulty  in  my  meeting  you,  that  I  am  not 
sure  you  know  what  I  hold  and  what  I  don't  ;  otherwise  why  should  [you]  insist 
so  strongly  on  points  which  I  maintain  as  strongly  as  you  ? 

'  Thus  you  insist  very  strongly  on  knowledge  mainly  depending  upon  the 
experience  of  facts,  as  if  I  denied  it ;  whereas,  as  a  general  truth  and  when 
experience  is  attainable,  I  hold  it  more  fully  than  you.  I  say  "  more  fully," 
because,  whereas  you  hold  that  "to  select,  square,  and  to  fit  together  materials 
which  experience  has  supplied  is  the  very  function  of  the  intellect,"  I  should  [nolj 
allow  the  intellect  to  select,  but  only  to  estimate  them. 

*  I  will  set  down  dicta  of  mine,  which  I  think  you  do  not  recollect,  which  are 
to  be  found  in  my  University  Sermons,  Essay  on  Development  of  Doctrine,  and 
Essay  on  Assent. 

'"  No  one  can  completely  define  things  which  exist  externally  to  the  mind, 
and  which  are  known  to  him  by  experience." 

'"Our  notions  of  things  are  never  simply  commensurate  with  the  things 
themselves." 

'  "  It  is  as  easy  to  create  as  to  define." 

*  "  This  distinction  between  inference  and  assent  is  exemplified  even  in 
mathematics." 

' "  Argument  is  not  always  able  to  command  our  assent  though  it  be 
demonstration." 

*  "  Concrete  matter  does  not  admit  of  demonstration." 

*  "  It  is  to  me  a  perplexity  that  grave  authors  seem  to  enunciate  as  an  intuitive 
truth,  that  everything  must  have  a  cause." 

'"The  notion  of  causation  is  one  of  the  first  lessons  which  we  learn  from 
experience." 

'  "  Starting  from  experience,  I  call  a  cause  an  effective  will." 

'  "  There  are  philosophers  who  teach  an  invariable  uniformity  in  the  laws  of 
nature  ;  I  do  not  see  on  what  ground  of  experience  or  reason  they  take  up  this 
position." 

'  "  Gravitation  is  not  an  experience  any  more  than  is  the  mythological  doctrine 
of  the  presence  of  innumerable  spirits  in  physical  phenomena." 

♦ "  Because  we  have  made  a  successful  analysis  of  some  complicated  assemblage 
of  phenomena,  whicli  experience  has  brought  before  us,  in  the  visible  scene  of 
things,  and  have  reduced  them  to  a  tolerable  dependence  on  each  other,  we  call 
the  ultimate  points  of  this  analysis  and  the  hypothetical  facts  in  which  the  whole 
mass  of  phenomena  is  gathered  up  by  the  name  of  causes,  whereas  they  are  really 
only  formulx'  under  which  these  phenomena  arc  conveniently  represented"  etc., 
and  so  on. 

'  You  say  "  I  doubt  whether  it  is  really  possible  to  give  a  blind  man  a  common 
idea  of  a  star."  I  have  drawn  out  elaborately  in  one  of  my  University  Sermons 
the  necessity  of  experience  from  the  case  of  a  blind  man  attempting  to  write  upon 


588  LIFE   OF   CARDINAL  NEWMAN 

colours,   how  he  might  go  on  swimmingly  at  first— but  before  long — in  spite  of 
his  abstract  knowledge  would  be  precipitated  into  some  desperate  mistake. 

'  I  can't  think  you  would  write  as  you  have  written  had  you  recollected  in  my 
volumes  passages  such  as  these.  Therefore  you  must  let  me  state  what,  according 
to  my  own  view  of  the  matter,  I  consider  to  be  our  fundamental  difference,  and 
it  is  certainly  so  considerable  and  accompanied  with  so  [much  that  is]  simply  a 
priori  and  personal,  that,   if  you  really  hold  firmly  all  you  say,  I  must  with 

consider 
great  grief  think    I  shall  have   done  all  that    I  can  do,   when  I  have    clearly 
stated  what  I  conceive  it  to  be. 

'We  differ  in  our  sense  and  our  use  of  the  word  "certain."  I  use  it  of 
minds,  you  of  propositions.  I  fully  grant  the  uncertainty  of  all  conclusions  in 
your  sense  of  the  word,  but  I  maintain  that  minds  may  in  my  sense  be  certain  of 
conclusions  which  are  uncertain  in  yours. 

'  Thus,  when  you  say  that  "  no  man  of  high  scientific  position  but  bears  in  mind 
that  a  residue  of  doubt  attaches  to  the  most  thoroughly  established  scientific  truths," 
I  am  glad  at  all  limes  to  learn  of  men  of  science,  as  of  all  men,  but  I  did  not  re- 
quire their  help  in  this  instance,  since  I  have  myself  laid  it  down,  as  I  had  already 
quoted  my  words,  [that]  "concrete  matter  does  not  admit  of  demonstration." 
That  is,  in  your  sense  of  the  word  '*  doubt,"  viz.  a  recognition  and  judgment 
that  the  proof  is  not  wholly  complete,  attaches  to  all  propositions  ;  this  I  would 
maintain  as  well  as  you.  But  if  you  mean  that  the  laws  of  the  human  mind  do 
not  command  and  force  it  to  accept  as  true  and  to  assent  absolutely  to  propositions 
which  are  not  logically  demonstrated,  this  I  think  so  great  a  paradox,  that  all  the 
scientific  philosophers  in  Europe  would  be  unable  by  their  united  testimony  to  make 
me  believe  it.  That  Great  Britain  is  an  island  is  a  geographical,  scientific  truth. 
Men  of  science  are  certain  of  it ;  they  have  in  their  intellects  no  doubt  at  all 
about  it ;  they  would  hold  and  rightly  that  a  residuum  of  defectiveness  of  proof 
attaches  to  it  as  a  thesis  ;  and,  in  consequence  they  would  admit  some  great 
authority,  who  asserted  that  it  was  geographically  joined  to  Norway,  tho'  a 
canal  was  cut  across  it,  to  give  them  his  reasons,  but  they  would  listen  without  a 

as  to 
particle  of  sympathy  for  the  great  man  or  doubt  about  his  hallucination,  and  all 
this,  while  they  allowed  it  had  not  been  absolutely  and  fully  proved  impossible 
that  he  was  right. 

which 

•  Then  I  go  on  to  say,  that  [it  is]  just  this,  what  scientific  men  believe  of  Great 
Britain,  viz.  that  its  insularity  is  an  absolute  truth,  that  we  believe  of  the  divinity 
of  Christianity  ;  and,  as  men  of  science  nevertheless  would  give  a  respectful 
attention  and  a  candid  and  careful  though  not  a  sympathetic  hearing  (to  any  man) 
of  name  and  standing  who  proposes  to  prove  to  them  that  Great  Britain  is  not  an 
island,  so  we  too,  did  men  in  whom  we  confide  come  to  us  stating  their 
conviction  that  Christianity  was  not  true,  we  should  indeed  feel  drawn  to  such 
men  as  little  as  professors  of  science  to  the  man  who  would  persuade  them 
that  Great  Britain  was  joined  to  the  continent,  Init  we  should,  if  we  acted  rightly, 
do  our  utmost,  as  I  have  ever  tried  to  do,  in  the  case  of  unbelievers,  to  do  justice 
to  their  arguments.  Of  course  it  may  be  said  that  I  could  not  help  being  biassed, 
but  that  may  be  said  of  men  of  science  too. 

'  I  hold,  then,  and  I  certainly  do  think  that  scientific  philosophers  must,  ix 
they  are  fair,  confess  too,  that  there  are  truths  of  which  they  are  certain,  tho' 
they  are  not  logically  proved  ;  which  are  to  be  as  cordially  accepted  as  if  they 
were   absolutely    proved,    which   arc    to    be   accepted    beyond    their   degree   of 


I 


APPENDICES  589 

probability,  considered  as  conclusions  from  premisses.  Vou  yourself  allow  that 
there  are  cases  in  which  we  are  forced  and  have  a  duty  to  act,  as  if  what  is  but 
possible  were  certainly  true,  as  in  our  precautions  against  fire  ;  I  go  further  so 
much,  not  as  to  say  that  in  merely  possible,  or  simply  probable  cases,  but 
in    particular  cases   of  the   highest   probability,  as   in  that  of  the  insularity  of 

human  intellect 
Great    Britain,  it   is   a   law    of  the        thought  to  accept  with  an  inward 

assent  as  absolutely  true,  what  is  not  yet  demonstrated.  We  all  observe  this 
law  ;  science  may  profess  to  ignore  it ;  but  men  of  science  observe  it  every  day  of 
their  lives,  just  as  religious  men  observe  it  in  their  own  province. 

'  In  opposition  then  to  what  you  assume  without  proof,  which  you  don't  seem 
to  know  that  I  have  denied,  even  to  throwing  down  the  gauntlet  in  denying,   I 
maintain  that  an  act  of  inference  is  distinct  from  an  act  of  assent,  and  that  [its] 
strength  does  not  vary  with  the  strength  of  the  inference.     A  hundred  and  one 
eye  witnesses  adds  strength  to  the  inference  drawn  from  the  evidence  of  a  hundred, 
but  not  to  the  assent  which  that  evidence  creates.     There  is  a  faculty  in  the  mind 
which  I  think  I  have  called  the  inductive  sense,  which,  when  properly  cultivated 
and  used,  answers  to  Aristotle's  (ppovrtcris,  its  province  being,  not  virtue,  but  the 
"inquisitio  veri,"  which  decides  for  us,  beyond  any  technical  rules,  when,  how, 
etc.  to  pass  from  inference  to  assent,  and  when  and  under  what  circumstances,  etc. 
etc.  not.    You  seem  yourself  to  admit  this  faculty,  when  you  speak  of  the  intellect 
not  only  as  adjusting,  but  as  selecting  the  results  of  experience.     Indeed  I  cannot 
understand  how  you  hold  certain  opinions  with  such  strength  of  conviction,  as 
you[r]  view  of  divine  justice,  of  the  inutility,  if  not  worse,  of  prayer,  ("  it  seems  to 
me  impossible  that  I  should  ever  etc.)  against  eternal  punishment,  against  the 
Atonement,  unless  you  were  acting  by  means  of  some  mental  faculty  (rightly  or 
wrongly  used)  which  brought  you  on  to  assents  far  more  absolute  than  could  be 
reached  by  experience  and  the  legitimate  action  of  logic  upon  its  results. 

'  I  am  led  to  conclude  then  that  you  grant  or  rather  hold  two  principles  most 
important  to  my  view  of  this  great  matter :— first  that  there  is  a  mental  faculty 
which  reasons  in  a  far  higher  way  than  that  of  merely  measuring  the  force  of  con- 
clusions by  the  force  of  premisses  :  and  next,  that  the  mind  has  a  power  of  deter- 
mining ethical  questions,  which  serve  as  major  premisses  to  syllogisms,  without 
depending  upon  experience.  And  now  I  add  a  third,  which  is  as  important  as 
any:  the  gradual  process  by  which  great  conclusions  are  forced  upon  the  mind, 
and  the  confidence  of  their  correctness  which  the  mind  feels  from  the  fact  of  that 
gradualness. 

'  This  too  you  feel  as  much  as  I  should  do.  You  say,  "  the  communication  of 
mind  with  mind  cannot  be  effected  by  any  purely  abstract  process."  I  consider, 
when  I  sum  up  the  course  of  thought  by  which  I  am  landed  in  Catholicity,  that  it 
consists  in  three  propositions  :  that  there  has  been  or  will  be  a  Revelation  ;  that 
Christianity  is  that  Revelation  ;  and  that  Catholicity  is  its  legitimate  expression  ; 
and  that  these  propositions  naturally  strengthen  the  force  of  each.  But  this  is 
only  how  I  should  sum  up,  in  order  to  give  outstanders  an  idea  of  my  line  of  argu- 
ment, not  as  myself  having  been  immediately  convinced  by  abstract  propositions. 
Nothing  surely  have  I  insisted  on  more  earnestly  in  my  Essay  on  Assent,  than  on 
the  necessity  of  thoroughly  suljjecting  abstract  propositions  to  concrete.  It  is  in 
the  experience  of  daily  life  that  the  power  of  religion  is  learnt.  You  will  say  that 
deism  or  scepticism  is  learnt  by  tliat  experience.  Of  course  ;  but  I  am  not  arguing, 
but  stating  what  I  hold,  which  you  seem  to  me  not  to  know.  And  I  repeat,  it  is 
not  by  syllogisms  or  other  logical  process  that  trustworthy  conclusions  are  drawn, 


590 


LIFE   OF  CARDINAL   NEWMAN 


such  as  command  our  assent,  but  by  that  minute,  continuous,  experimental  reason- 
ing, which  shows  baldly  on  paper,  but  which  drifts  silently  into  an  overwhelming 
cumulus  of  proof,  and,  when  our  start  is  true,  brings  us  on  to  a  true  result. 
Thus  it  is  that  a  man  may  be  led  on  from  scepticism,  deism,  methodism,  anglican- 
ism,  into  the  Catholic  Church,  God  being  with  him  all  through  his  changes,  and 
a  more  and  more  irresistible  assent  to  the  divinity  of  the  Catholic  Church  being 
wrought  out  by  those  various  changes  ;  and  he  will  simply  laugh  and  scoff  at  your 
doctrine  that  his  evidence  is  necessarily  defective  and  that  scientific  authorities 
are  agreed  that  he  can't  be  certain.  And  here  I  must  digress  a  moment  to  give 
expression  to  a  marvel  that  you  should  think  I  do  not  hold  with  [Hurrell].  "  There 
is  another  point  in  which  etc.  etc.  he  used  to  feel  that,  whoever  was  heartily  doing 
his  best  to  do  God's  will,  as  far  as  he  knew  it,  would  be  divinely  guided  to  a 
clear  knowledge  of  theological  truth."  Why,  this  is  what  I  have  enunciated  or 
implied  in  all  that  I  have  written  : — but  to  return. 

'  You  continue : — "  The  consciousness  that  they  mean  the  same  thing  by  the 
same  words  is  a  consciousness  growing  out  of  experience  or  daily  experiment. " 
This  I  have  virtually  insisted  on  in  a  whole  chapter  in  my  Essay  on  Assent,  in 
which,  among  other  instances  in  point,  I  refer  to  the  difference  of  the  aspects 
under  which  the  letters  of  the  alphabet  present  themselves  to  different  minds, 
asking  "  which  way  does  B  look  ?  to  the  right  or  to  the  left  ?  "  Moreover,  it  is 
the  principle  of  my  Essay  on  Doctrinal  Development,  and  I  consider  it  emphati- 
cally enforced  in  the  history  of  the  Catholic  Schools.  You  must  not  forget  that, 
though  we  maintain  the  fact  of  a  Revelation  as  a  first  principle,  as  firmly  as  you 
can  hold  that  nature  has  its  laws,  yet,  when  the  matter  of  the  Revelation  [given] 
comes  to  be  considered,  very  little  is  set  down  as  the  original  doctrine  which 
alone  is  de  fide,  and  within  which  the  revealed  truth  lies  and  is  limited.  As 
Newton's  theory  is  the  development  of  the  laws  of  motion  and  the  first  principles 
of  geometry,  so  the  corpus  of  Catholic  doctrine  is  the  outcome  of  Apostolic 
preaching.  That  corpus  is  the  slow  working  out  of  conclusions  by  means  of 
meditation,  prayer,  analytical  thought,  argument,  controversy,  through  a  thousand 
minds,  through  eighteen  centuries  and  the  whole  of  Europe.  There  has  been  a 
continual  process  in  operation  of  correction,  refinement,  adjustment,  revision, 
enucleation,  etc.,  and  this  from  the  earliest  times,  as  recognised  by  Vincent  of 
Lerins.  The  arguments  by  which  the  prerogatives  of  the  Blessed  Virgin  are 
proved  may  be  scorned  as  insufficient  by  mechanicians,  but  in  fact  they  are 
beyond  their  comprehension,  and  I  claim  for  theologians  that  equitable  con- 
cession that  they  know  their  own  business  better  than  others  do  which  you 
claim  for  mechanical  philosophers.     Cuique  in  arte  sua  credendum  :  I  do  not  call 

tho' 
your  friends  "  technical  "  in  their  mechanics,  because  you  do  call  me  "  technical  " 
in  my  theology  ;  but  I  go  so  far  as  to  take  for  my  own  friends  what  I  grant 
to  yours,  and  should  ever  do  (so)  ;  I  have  long  thought  your  great  men  in  science 
to  be  open  to  the  charge  of  superciliousness,  and  I  will  never  indulge  them  in  it. 
Our  teaching,  as  well  as  yours,  requires  the  preparation  and  exercise  of;iong 
thought  and  of  a  thorough  imbuing  in  religious  ideas.  Even  were  those  ideas  not 
true,  still  a  long  study  would  be  necessary  for  understanding  them  ;  [when  such  a 
study  is  given]  what  you  call  the  random  reasonings  of  theologians  will  be  found 
to  have  as  clear  a  right  to  be  treated  with  respect  as  those  proceedings  of 
mechanical  philosophers  who  you  say  are  so  microscopic  in  their  painstaking. 
Words  are  but  the  symbols  of  ideas,  and  the  microscopic  reasoner,  who  is 
not  only  so  painstaking,  but  so  justly  successful  in  his  mechanics,  is  simply  an 


APPENDICES  591 

untaught  child  in  questions  of  theology.  Hence  it  is  that  we,  as  well  as  you, 
make  such  account  of  authority,  even  though  it  he  not  infallible.  Athanasius, 
Gregory,  Augustine,  Leo,  Thomas  Aquinas,  Suarez,  Francis  de  Sales,  Petavius, 
Lambertini,  and  a  host  besides  have  from  (our  estimate  of)  their  theological 
instinct  that  honour  with  us,  which,  on  account  of  their  mechanical  and  physical 
instincts,  you  accord  to  your  men  of  material  science.  Vou  say  that  an  ordinary 
man  would  think  it  his  duty  to  listen  to  any  great  mechanical  philosopher  who 
should  bring  reasons  for  even  so  great  a  paradox  as  the  possibility  of  perpetual 
motion  ;  why  should  such  personal  reverence  be  reserved  for  mechanicians  alone  ? 
why  not  for  theologians  ?  To  none  indeed  of  the  opinions  of  the  schools,  nor  to 
the  reasonings  even  of  Councils  and  Popes,  are  we  bound  ;  none  are  defide ;  none 
but  may  be  changed.  I  think  there  was  a  day  when  the  whole  body  of  divines 
was  opposed  to  the  doctrine  of  the  Immaculate  Conception  ;  two  great  men, 
St.  Bernard  and  St.  Thomas,  threw  back  the  reception  of  it  for  600  years.  The 
Jesuits  have  reversed  the  long  dominant  opinion  of  St.  Augustine  of  absolute 
predestination,  and  have  been  confirmed  by  two  saints,  St.  Francis  de  Sales  and 
St.  Alfonso.  On  the  other  hand,  sometimes  a  doctrine  of  the  schools  has  been 
made  a  dogma,  that  is,  has  been  pronounced  a  portion  of  the  original  revelation, 
but  this,  when  it  has  occurred,  has  been  no  sudden  extempore  procedure,  but  the 
issue  of  long  examination  and  the  controversy  of  centuries.  There  were  circum- 
stances in  the  mode  of  conducting  the  Vatican  Council  which  I  could  not  like, 
but  its  definition  of  the  Pope's  Infallibility  was  nothing  short  of  the  upshot  of 
numberless  historical  facts  looking  that  way,  and  of  the  multitudinous  mind  of 
theologians  acting  upon  them. 

'  Wliat  then  you  say  of  mechanical  science,  I  say  emphatically  of  theology,  viz. 
that  it  "makes  progress  Ijy  being  always  alive  to  its  own  fundamental  uncertain- 
ties." We  may  allowaljly  argue,  and  do  argue,  against  everything  but  what  has 
been  ruled  to  be  Apostolic  :  we  do  (thus  argue),  and  I  grant  sometimes  with  far 
less  temper,  and  sometimes  with  far  less  freedom  of  mind  than  mechanical 
philosophers  (argue)  in  their  own  province,  and  for  a  plain  reason,  because 
theology  involves  more  questions  which  may  be  called  burning  than  physics  ;  but 
if  you  [who]  are  modest  before  Newton  and  Faraday  may  be  fierce  with  table- 
turners,  and  the  schola  astronomicorum  with  that  poor  man  who  some  years  ago 

maintained 

said  that  the  moon  did  not  rotate,  I  think  it  no  harm  to  extend  an 
indulgence  towards  the  prejudicium  or  the  odium  theologicum,  in  religious 
writers. 

'  And  now  I  go  on  to  the  relation  of  the  will  to  assent,  in  theological 
matters,  as  to  which,  perhaps  from  my  own  fault,  I  have  not  made  my  doctrine 
quite  clear  to  you  in  the  passage  in  Loss  and  Gain.  Vou  seem  to  think  that 
I  hold  that  in  religion  the  will  is  simply  to  supersede  the  intellect,  and  that 
we  arc  to  force  ourselves  to  believe  against  evidence,  or  at  least  in  some  way  or 
other  not  to  give  the  mind  fair  play  in  the  question  of  accepting  or  rejecting 
Christianity.  I  will  say  then  what  I  really  meant.  Now,  as  far  as  I  recollect, 
Reding  says,  "I  sec  the  truth  as  iho'  seen  thro' clouds.  I  have  real  grounds 
for  believing,  ?nd  only  floating  imaginations  against  it;  is  this  enough  for 
faith  ?  " 

'  First  of  all,  then,  I  had  fancied  that  every  one  granted  that  in  practical 
matters  our  wishes  were  apt  to  bias  our  judgments  and  decisions,  how  then  is  it 
strange  that  a  Catholic  Priest,  as  in  that  story,  who  was  quite  sure  that  there  was 
but  one  truth  and  that  he  possessed  it,  should  be  urgent  with  a  youth  who  was 


592 


LIFE  OF  CARDINAL   NEWMAN 


within  grasp  of  this  pearl  of  great  price,  lest,  under  the  strong  secular  motives 

miss 
against  his  acting,  he  might  through  faintheartedness  lose  it?      But  he  would 
hold,  and  I  hold  most  distinctly  that,  tho'  faith  is  the  result  of  will,  itself  ever 
follows  intellectual  judgment. 

'  But  again ;  it  must  be  recollected,  that,  since  nothing  concrete  admits  of 
demonstration,  and  there  is  always  a  residuum  of  imperfection  in  the  proof,  it  is 
always  also  possible,  perhaps  even  plausibly  to  resist  a  conclusion,  even  the'  it  be 
one  which  all  sensible  men  consider  beyond  question.  Thus,  in  this  day 
especially,  new  lights  are  thrown  upon  historical  events  and  characters,  some- 
times important,  sometimes,  as  the  world  agrees,  clever,  ingenious,  but  not  likely 
to  have  a  permanent  value.  Now  here  it  is  the  common  sense,  good  judgment, 
(pp6vi)(Tis,  which  sweeps  away  the  aggressive  theory.  But  there  are  cases  in  which 
judgment  influences  the  will.  Thus  a  tutor  might  say  to  his  pupil,  "  I  advise 
you  not  to  begin  your  historical  studies  with  Niebuhrism  or  you  will  end  by 
knowing  nothing  ;  depend  upon  it  the  world  is  not  mistaken  in  the  grand  outline 
of  events.  When  objections  come  before  you,  consider  them  fairly,  but  don't 
begin  with  doubting :  "  and  his  pupil  might,  by  an  act  of  the  will,  put  from  his 
mind,  at  least  for  the  time,  real  difficulties. 

'  Still  more  [does  this  apply]  to  the  cases,  not  a  few,  in  which  excited,  timid, 
narrow,  feeble,  or  over-sensitive  minds  have  their  imaginations  so  affected  by  a  one 
single  difficulty  connected  with  a  received  truth  that  [it]  decides  for  them  their  rejec- 
tion of  it  against  reason,  evidence,  authority,  and  general  reception.  They  cannot  get 
over  what  so  distresses  them,  and  after  a  thousand  arguments  for  the  truth,  return 
with  full  confidence  to  their  objection.  Thus  if  a  man  said  he  was  fully  con- 
vinced of  the  divinity  of  the  Catholic  Church,  if  he  judged  her  by  her  rites,  her 
doctrines,  her  history,  or  her  fruits,  but  that  he  could  not  get  over  the  fact  that 
in  the  Apocalypse  the  dragon  was  red  and  red  was  the  colour  of  the  Cardinal's 
cassocks,  I  should  (think)  it  would  be  the  duty  of  a  friend  to  tell  him  to  put  this 
difficulty  aside  by  a  vigorous  act  of  the  will,  and  to  become  a  Catholic. 

*  This  is  an  extreme  case  ;  there  are  others  more  intelligible  and  to  the  point. 
Wives  may  be  unfaithful,  but  Othello  ought  by  a  strong  act  of  the  will  to  have 
put  aside  his  suspicions.  Do  you  mean  to  say  that  a  man  can  feel  any  doubt 
whatever  of  the  truth  and  affection  of  an  old  friend  ?  is  he  not  in  his  inward 
heart  fully  confident  and  certain  of  him,  while  he  will  willingly  own  that  there  is 
a  residue  of  doubt  looking  at  the  fact  as  a  matter  of  inference  and  proof?  Will 
it  be  anything  to  him  that  a  stranger  who  has  not  his  experience  does  not  feel  the 
force  of  them,  when  put  into  words  ?  That  stranger  will  of  course  disbelieve,  but 
that  is  not  reason  against  his  own  believing.  You  will  say  that  cases  of  perfidy 
are  possible,  and  a  man  may  at  length  be  obliged  to  pronounce  against  his  friend  ; 
certainly,  and  (false)  arguments  may  overcome  the  Christian  and  he  may  give  up 
his  faith,  but,  till  such  a  strong  conclusion  has  overtaken  him,  he  will  by  an  act 
of  the  will  reject,  it  will  be  his  duty,  as  well  as  his  impulse  to  reject,  all  doubts, 
as  a  man  rejects  doubts  about  his  friend's  truth.  And  if  it  be  said  that  his  friend 
is  visibly  present,  and  the  object  of  faith  invisible,  there  the  action  of  supernatural 
"race  comes  in,  which  I  cannot  enter  upon  here.  It  brings  us  into  a  leading 
question  of  premisses,  not  of  proof.  I  have  said  much  on  this  point  in  my 
Essay  on  Assent.' 


i 


INDEX 


Abbotsford,  i.  260,  264,300 

Academia  of  the  Catholic  Religion  in 
England  founded,  i.  524  ;  Newman's 
attitude  towards,  525  ;  first  meeting 
of,  532  ;  referred  to,  521,  534,  535 

Achilli  trial,  The,  i.  276,  et  seq.  ;  text 
of  Newman's  indictment  of  Achilli, 
279  n.  ;  description  of  Achilli,  291  ; 
the  Times  and  the  verdict,  292 ; 
enormous  expenses  of  the  trial,  295- 
296  ;  Newman  goes  up  for  judgment, 
296-297  ;  new  trial  moved  for,  297- 
300 ;  refused,  300 ;  subscription 
among  Catholics  throughout  the 
world  for  his  expenses,  303.  New- 
man thanks  Sister  Maria  Pia  for 
her  aid  in  obtaining  witnesses, 
ii.  521.  Referred  to,  i.  7,  304, 
31S,  318,  321,  327,  330,  546,  644. 
ii.  412 

Acton,  Cardinal,  i.  103,  147,  162.      ii. 

435  «• 
Acton,  Sir  John  (afterwards  Lord 
Acton),  on  Ultramontane  writers,  of 
the  nineteenth  century,  i.  314;  his 
first  acquaintance  with  Newman, 
443 ;  on  the  study  of  Christian 
origins,  443  ;  early  history  of,  459  ; 
his  sympathy  with  Liberal  Catholi- 
cism, 459  ;  relations  with  Dollinger, 
464  ;  and  German  liberal  thought, 
465,  467  ;  desires  to  found  an  Eng- 
lish organ  of  liberal  Catholic  opinions, 
467  ;  on  the  relation  of  theology  to 
the  scientific  thought  of  the  time,  46S, 
et  seq.  ;  and  W.  G.  Ward,  470  ;  his 
connection  with  the  Hanibkr,  474, 
et  seq.  ;  his  interview  with  Newman 
on  the  future  of  the  Rambler,  481, 
et  seq.  ;  urges  Newman  to  become 
editor,  491  ;  on  Newman's  accept- 
ance of  the  editorship,  492,  493  ;  his 
indignation  at  the  announcement  dis- 
sociating Newman  from  the  Kamhler, 
508,  et  seq.  ;  W.  G.  Ward's  views  on, 
517  ;  on  the  position  of  a  Catholic 
Review  and  its  duties  to  authority  and 
public  opinion,  527,  e/ seq.  ;  editor  of 

VOL.  IL 


Honie  and  Foreign  Review,  537,  et 
seq.  ;  suspends  publication  of  Home 
and  Foreign,  565-566  ;  continues  to 
urge  his  views  in  North  Biitislt 
Revie-v,  566.  Pius  IX. 's  opinion  of, 
ii.  167  ;  his  attitude  towards  Papal  In- 
fallibility, 215,  374,  375;  Newman's 
regard  for,  in  spite  of  differences,384  ; 
Newman's  relations  with,  496.  Re- 
ferred to,  i.  10,  264,  438  7t.,  445, 
479.  480,  485,  495,  501,  551,  63.:;, 
637,639.  ii.  80,  143  «.,  161,  173, 
284,  401.  See  also  Letters 
Affirmation  Bill,  Newman's  opinion  of 

the,  ii.  521 
Agnosticism,  Newman   anticipated  an 
age  of,  i.    392-393.     ii.  4I5>  -^^  ^eq. 
Catholicism    the    only    antidote    to, 
i.  410 
Aldo  Brandini,  Princess,  i.  155 
Alexander,    Archbishop,   his  poem    on 

Oxford  in  1845,  i.  6  n. 
Alexander  of  Hales,  i.   396 
Alleyne,  Rev.  A.  V.,  see  Letters 
Allies,  T.  W. ,  his  criticism  of  Newman, 
i.  20  ;   and  the  Gorham  Case,  230  ; 
conversion     of,     252 ;     lectures     in 
Dublin  on  the  '  Formation  of  Christ- 
endom,'   308,    309.      Referred     to, 
i.   113,   130,  300,   359«m5o5,  623. 
ii.  78,  196,  453,  496 
Alphonsus,  St.,  i.  169,  171,  188.     ii.  16 
Alzog,  Dr.,  quoted,  i.  461  ;  referred  to, 

562 
Amherst,  P'rancis  (Bishop  of  North- 
ampton), i.  142,  144 
Anglican  Church,  Newman  and  the 
Catholic  movement  in,  i.  6,  56^^  seq. : 
compared  by  Newman  to  Catholic 
Church  of  fourth  century,  42,  46-47  ; 
disestablishment  of,  imminent  in 
1833,  50  ;  defended  by  Newman  in 
his  '  Prophetical  Office,'  59,  et  seq.  ; 
Newman  uses  vehement  language  in 
criticism  of,  204 ;  Newman  holds  it 
to  be  a  liulwark  against  infidelit)', 
232,  259,  651.  Newman  thinks  it 
a  great  human  institution,  ii.  44-45  • 

QQ 


594 


LIFE  OF   CARDINAL  NEWMAN 


Newman's  further  views  on,  57-58  ; 
essentially  Erastian,  116,  117 

Antioch,  Council   of,   condemned    the 
Homoousion,  ii.  557 

Antonelli,   Cardinal,   i.  358,  519,  522- 
524,  533.     i'.  loi,  285 

Apologetics,  Catholic,  i.  392,  458,  473, 

474.  ii.  474-476 
*  Apologia,  The  '  {see  also  Kingsley)  : 
Newman  determines  to  write,  ii.  13  ; 
parts  of  the  original  out  of  print, 
14  n.  ;  parts  i.  and  ii.  analysed  and 
quoted,  14-18  ;  hard  work  en- 
tailed in  writing,  25  ;  careful  plan  of 
the  work,  26,  27  ;  change  in  New- 
man's, public  position  after  writing 
it,  l\,  et  seq.,  358-359;  New- 
man discusses  Infallibility  and 
authority  of  the  Church  in,  36-41  ; 
last  part  censured  by  some  theological 
critics, 42-43 ;  Newman  disclaims  per- 
sonal anger  with  Kingsley,  45-46  ; 
writes  on  Liberalism  in  second  edi- 
tion, 75  ;  effect  of,  visible  among  the 
public,  108  ;  Dr.  Fairbairn's  attack 
on  Newman's  treatment  of  human 
reason  in,  505  ;  certain  passages 
disliked  at  Rome,  544.  Quoted,  i. 
42,  47,  50,  250.  ii.  354.  Referred 
to,  i.  II,  29,  79,  232,  585.  ii.  67, 
71,  72,  92,  122,  123,  203,  316,  353, 
355>  356,  399,  400,  401,  430>  452, 
463,  497,  508,  510,  522 

Architecture,  Newman  on  different 
styles,  i.  139,  140-141,  204;?. 

Argyll,  Duchess  of,  her  death  a  blow  to 
Newman,  ii.  387,  391 

'  Arianism  and  ApoUinarianism,'  New- 
man's, ii.  399 

'Arians  of  the  Fourth  Century,  The,' 
writing  of,  i.  46  ;  finished,  50 ; 
Newman  exhausted  by  writing  of, 
296,  637  ;  Diillinger  on,  444.  New- 
man answers  Franzelin's  attack  on 
his  Rambler  article  '  On  Consulting 
the  Faithful'  in  a  later  edition,  ii. 
174.  Referred  to,  i.  43.  ii.  381,  400, 
576 

Aristotelians,  Medieval,  1.  405  '■>  n-  33 1 

Aristotle  out  of  favour  in  Rome  in 
1847,  i.  165,  166.  ii.  556.  Adoption 
of  his  philosophy  by  thirteenth- 
century  thinkers,  i.  405 ;  on  the 
magnanimous  man,  409  ;  his  influ- 
ence on  Scholasticism,  562  ;  referred 
to,  220,  396 

Arnold,  Arthur,  see  Letters 

Arnold,  >fatthew,  i.  309,  539.     ii.  494 

Arnold,  Dr.    Thomas    (of    Rugby),    i. 

37,  309-     ii-  "7  .      ^ 

Arnold,  Thomas  (junior),   1.  362,  379, 


4557456  ;  referred  to,  542,  543,  545. 

ii.  84.     See  also  Letters 
Arundel  and  Surrey,  Lord  and  Lady, 

j'e  Norfolk  (14th  Duke) 
Association  for  the   Promotion  of  the 

Unity  of  Christendom,  ii.  81,  82,  et 

seq. 
Aston  Hall,  i.  94M. ,  iii,  153 
Athanasius,   i.    51,  172,  173,  181.      ii. 

400,  418,  433,  478,  528 
Athenictim,     The,    its    comments    on 

the  Kingsley  controversy,  ii.  32 
Athenreum  Club,   Newman  invited  to 

join  the,  1.  60 
Atlantis,    The,   \.    418,  429-437,  474, 

478,482,532 
Augustine,    St.  :    his    dictum    Securus 
judicat  orbis  terrarum,  i.  67.    ii.  455. 

Dbllinger    writes    of    him     in     the 

Rambler  di-A  the  '  father  of  Jansenism,' 

i.    479;     referred    to,    i.     139.       ii. 

38-39 
'  Authority     of   Doctrinal    Decisions,' 

W.  G.  Ward's  work  on  the,  ii.  151 
Avenir,  The,    condemnation,    i.    365, 

461 
Aytoun,  Rev.  Mr.,  i.  255  «. 


Bacox,  Lord,  i.  269,  404,  435.     ii. 

331 

Badeley,    Edward,    i.    103,    284,    287, 

291,    297,    298,  300,  358,  505,  647. 
ii.  198,  204 
Baggs,  Dr.,  i.  553 
Bagshawe,  Mr.,  i.  507,  509 
Bain,  Alexander,  i.  308.     ii.  197 
Baines,     Bishop,    Vicar-Apostolic     of 

Western  District,  i.  102.     ii.  52 
Baltimore,  Archbishop  of,  see  Kenrick 
Bamberg,  Archbishop  of,  i.  562 
Barlow,  Dr.,  of  Trinity  College,  Dub- 
lin, i.  366 
Barnabo,  Cardinal,  i.  17,  24,  155,  347, 
358,  451,  551-   ii-  69,  124,  125,  128- 
129,    140,    147,    148,     155,    156   n., 
159-163,    173,    178-180,    181,    184, 
190,  191,    193,  200,  433-435.   543, 
549 
Barnewall,    Mr.  (afterwards  Sir   Regi- 
nald), i.  364 
Baronius,  Cardinal,  i.    176,    178,  179, 

223,  270,  530.     ii.  158,  168,  546 
Barry,  Dr.,  i.  27  n.     ii.    508,  510,   511 
Bathurst,    INIiss,  ii.    316  «.,  519.     See 

also  Letters 
Bautain,    M.,  i.   64,  174 
Beaumont  College,  ii.  444,  445 
Bede,  St.,  ii.  528 

Bedford,    Mr.    IL,  ii.    512.     See  also 
Letters 


INDEX 


595 


Beethoven,  ii.  76,  336,  349-35° 

Bellarmine,  i.  120.     ii.  193,  404  n. 

Bellasis,  Edward,  i.  27  w.  ii.  349, 
350 

Bellasis,  Henry  F.  (Father  Lewis),  ii. 
469.     See  also  Letters 

Bellasis,  Mr.  Serjeant  E. ,  visits  New- 
man at  Milan,  i.  142  ;  and  the 
Oratory  School,  455,  456.  '  Gram- 
mar of  Assent '  dedicated  to,  ii.  154, 
262  ;  his  death,  387.  Referred  to, 
i.  298,  300,  363,  545,  557,  594,  595. 
"•  73>  3^9)  39°-     ^^^  "''•*"^  Letters 

Bellasis,  Mrs.,  see  Letters 

Benedictines,  see  '  Historical  Sketches,' 
ii. 

Benthamism,  i.  57 

Bernard,  St.,  i.  164,  171 

Eerrulle,  Cardinal,  i.  223 

Besan9on,  Archbishop  of,  i.  137- 138, 
184 

Bianconi,  Dr.,  i.  324  «. 

Bible,  The  (see  also  Inspiration) : 
proposed  new  English  version  of, 
to  be  edited  by  Newman,  i.  418- 
419,  423-428  ;  Newman's  Prolego- 
mena to  new  translation,  423-425, 
478 ;  abandonment  of  the  scheme, 
425,  et  seq. 

Biblical  criticism,  Newman  desires  a 
Commission  on,  ii.  477  ;  referred  to, 

504  71. 

'  Biographical  Sketches '  of  Kegan  Paul, 
i.  191 

Biography,  Newman  on  the  importance 
of  letters  as  an  element  in,  ii.  314 

Biography  of  Newman,  Materials  for, 
i.  I,  29 

Birmingham  Oratory  :  idea  of  founding 
an  English  Oratory,  i.  169,  et  seq.  ; 
noviciate  of  Newman  and  his  com- 
panions at  Santa  Croce,  182-183, 
187  ;  Papal  briefof  foundation  issued, 
197  ;  the  start  at  Maryvale,  198- 
199 ;  project  of  branch  houses 
mooted,  201  ;  Frederick  Faber  and 
Wilfridians  join,  202  ;  divergences 
between  Newman  and  younger  mem- 
bers of,  202-204,  216  ;  criticisms  of, 
by 'old  Catholics,'  214-216;  New- 
man moves  to  Alcester  Street,  216  ; 
branch  house  founded  in  London, 
217  ;  Birmingham  Oratory  contrasted 
with  London  Oratory,  225-226  ;  the 
'  Sermons  for  Mixed  Congregations,' 
228  ;  «  Little  Oratory  '  started,  264  ; 
the  move  to  Hagley  Road,  Edgbas- 
ton,  281  ;  account  of  formal  separa- 
tion of,  from  London  Oratory,  i.  450- 
451  ;  description  of  Newman's  life 
at,  chapter  xxx. 


Birmingham  Oratory  School,  first 
planned  at?  Maryvale,  i.  198  ;  foun- 
dation of  the  school,  452,  ei  seq. 

Bishops  :  (i)  English,  formation  of  new 
Hierarchy,  i.  191,  195,  197  ;  Wise- 
man's sanguine  views  as  to  the  new 
Hierarchy,  253 ;  Newman's  views, 
260  ;  and  the  proposed  translation  of 
the  Bible  by  Newman,  418,  428  ; 
threaten  to  censure  the  Rai)ibler,  479, 
480,  486,  490  ;  their  censure  of  the 
Rambler  and  Home  and  Foreign  Re- 
view, 544.  In  favour  of  prohibition 
of  Catholics  going  to  Oxford,  ii.  65  ; 
majority  of,  identify  themselves  with 
Newman's  'Letter  to  Dr.  Pusey,' 
112  ;  their  letter  of,  to  Propaganda 
regarding  the  education  of  Catholics 
at  Oxford,  156 

Bishops  :  (2)  Irish,  their  opposition  to 
'  mixed  education,'  i.  275,  305,  et 
seq.  ii.  518;  not  sufficiently  alive 
to  the  importance  of  University 
Education,  i.  310;  their  formal  invi- 
tation to  Newman  delayed,  321,  et 
seq.,  325,  ct  seq.  ;  attitude  of,  towards 
the  Catholic  University,  336  ;  New- 
man's visits  to  the  Irish  Bishops, 
337-340 ;  misunderstandings  with 
Newman,  354,  etseq.,  359-360  ;  their 
representations  in  Rome  against 
Newman's  being  made  a  bishop, 
356,  385-386  ;  their  relations  to  the 
laity,  364.  ii.  397.  Text  of  New- 
man's letters  to,  announcing  his 
resignation,  i.  631-633 

Bishops  :  (3)  Scotch,  congratulate  New- 
man on  Cardinalate,  ii.  455 

Bittleston,  Fr.  Henry,  i.  321,  518. 
ii.  140,  150,  153,  156,  158,  et  seq., 
457.     See  also  Letters 

Blachford,  Lady,  ii.  90,  341 

Blachford,  Lord  (Sir  Frederick  Rogers), 
friend  of  Newman,  1833-1840,  i.  217; 
their  meeting  after  long  separation, 
611.  Deprecates  sarcasm  in  first  part 
of  '  Apologia,'  ii.  18,  19  ;  frequent 
correspondence  with  Newman,  73  ; 
gives  Newman  a  violin,  75,  349 ; 
Newman  stays  with,  90 ;  sends 
Newman  Seeley's  '  Ecce  Homo,' 
118;  Newman  writes  to,  on  InfLiUi- 
bility,  374;  other  letters  to,  381,  et 
seq.  ;  receives  peerage,  382,  et  seq.  ; 
advises  Newman  in  his  controversy 
with  Dr.  Fairbairn,  508,  et  seq.  ;  con- 
gratulates Newman  on  the  Cardinal- 
ate,  579,  584.  Referred  to,  i.  61,  67, 
200.  555.  556,  579,  625,  627.  ii.  22, 
23,  73,  100,  130,  348,  402,  520. 
See  also  Letters 

QQ2 


596 


LIFE   OF   CARDINAL    NEWMAN 


Blennerhassett,    Sir    Rowland,  Bt.,  i. 

444,  565 
Blomfield,  Dr.,  i.  261 
Uloxam,  Dr.  J.  R.    (Rector  of  Upper 

Heeding),!,  no.      ii.  469.     See  also 

Letters 
Boniface,  St.,  i.  405 
Bonn  University,  ii.  547 
Borghese,  Prince,  i.  154,  155 
Borghese,  Princess,  ii.  521 
Bossuet,  i.  2,  3,  228.     ii.  420 
Boston — the    Socinians  of  Boston   and 

Newman's  '  Essay  on  Development,' 

i.  161 
Botalla,  Fr. ,  ii.  409 
Bourdaloue,  i.  228 
Bowden,  Charles,  i.  193 
Bowden,  Ileniy,  i.  126,300.    ii.  74,  93 
Bowden,  J.  W.,  i.    33,   39,    124,    126. 

"•  339 

Bowden,  Miss  Charlotte,  see  Letters 
Bowden,  Mrs.  J.  W. ,  Newman  visits, 

i.  124;  her  conversion,  126 
Bowles,  F.  S.,  i.  84,94,  io3,  120,  125, 

154,   182,   188,   191,  214.       ii.   349- 

See  also  Letters 
Bowles,  Miss  E.,  ii.  47,   108,  364  n., 

375,  403,  442,  446.    See  also  Letters 
Bowyer,   Sir  G.  W.,   i.    196,  252,  256, 

300.     ii.  196,  561.    See  also  Letters 
Brabant,  Duke  of,  i.  651 
Bradlaugh,  Charles,  ii.  386 
Bradley,  Dean,  i.  75  w. 
Braye,  Lord,  ii.  484,  485,  el  scq.     See 

also  Letters 
Bresciano,   Fr.    (Rector  of  Collegio  di 

Propaganda),  i.    149,    150,    153.     ii. 

197 
Briggs,  Bishop,  1.  Ill,  133 
Brindle,  Dr.,  of  Prior  Park,  i.  102,  no 
British  Association  meets    at   Oxford, 

i.  190 
British    Constitution,    Analysis  of,    by 

Newman,    i.   352 ;  in    time  of  war, 

353.  354 

British  Critic,  Newman  editor  of, 
i-  57)  549-  Newman's  Essays  in, 
ii.  400 

British  Magazine,  i.  224 

Britten,  Mr.  James,  ii.  487 

Brodie,  S=r  B.,  i.  299,  546 

Brougham,  Lord,  i.  45,  638 

Brown,  Dr.  (Bishop  of  Newport),  i. 
208,  503.  ii.  146,  158,  165,  171, 
175,  176,  560,  581,  582.  See  also 
Letters 

Brown,  Principal  (of  Aberdeen  Univer- 
sity), on  Christian  Unity,  ii.  392, 
393.     See  also  Letters 

Brownbill,  Rev.  Mr.,  i.  103,  112 

Brownlow,  William  Robert  (Bishop  of 


Clifton),  i.  652-654.  ii.  268.  See 
also  Letters 

Brownson,  Dr. (the  American  publicist), 
i.  160,  483.     ii.  270 

Bro7Viison^s  Review,  i.  160 

Brunelli,  Cardinal  (Secretary  of  Propa- 
ganda), i.  144,  148,   174,   iSo,   i8r, 

451 
Bruno,    Giordano  :  Newman    endorses 

Leo  XIII. 's  protest  against  erection 

of  statue  to,  ii.  533-534 
Bryce,     Right    Hon.    James,    ii.    425, 

428,  429 
Buckle,  Mr.,  Fellow  of  Oriel,  ii.  342 
Burgon,  Dean,  i.  309 
Burke,  Edmund,  ii.  44 
Burns,  i.  191,  486,  526 
Bute,    Marquess  of,  ii.   579.     See  also 

Letters 
Butler,  Alban,   '  Lives  of  the  Saints,' 

i.  177 
Butler,    Archer,    his     attack    on    the 

'  Essay  on  Development '  referred  to, 

ii.  270 
Butler,  Edward,  i.  359  n. 
Butler,  Bishop,  *  The  Analogy,'  i.   38  ; 

referred  to,  45,  269,  424,  620,  624 
Byron,  Lord,  ii.  354,  357 

'  C.^SARISM  AND    UlTRAMONTANISM  * 

(by  Cardinal    Manning),    Gladstone 

attacks,  ii.  401,  402 
'CaUista,'  i.  244,  352,  353 
Calvinism,  its  influence  on  Newman, 

i-  30-32,  36,  41-    ii-  343 

Campbell,  Lord,  and  the  Achilli  trial, 
i.  281,  284,  290,  296,  298,  300,  303 

Campion,  Edmund,  i.  518,  52S 

Capalti,  Mgr.,  ii.  181 

Capes,  F.  M. ,  editor  of  the  Rambler,  i. 
224,  243,  244,  474  ;  his  articles  in 
the  Rambler,  437,  et  seq.  ;  his  scheme 
for  lectures  against  Papal  Aggression 
agitation,  259,  260-266 ;  New- 
man's sympathy  with,  437 ;  New- 
man's disapproval  of  his  articles, 
and  attitude  towards  his  intellectual 
difficulties,  441,  442;  left  Catholic 
Church,  437 ;  died  a  Catholic, 
437  n.  ;  referred  to,  130,  164  «., 
221,  226,  301  «.,  373,  417,  445- 
ii.  344.     See  also  Letters 

Cardella,  Father,  the  Roman  Jesuit, 
ii.  155,  174,  179,  548,  549,  559 

Cardinalate  conferred  on  Newman,  and 
its  effect,  i.  14.  ii.  433,  et  seq.;  letter 
on  the  subject  from  the  Duke  of 
Norfolk,  436  ;  text  of  Manning's 
application  for  its  bestowal  on 
Newman,  577  ;  other  letters  re- 
lating to,  578 


INDEX 


597 


Carlow  College,  i.  338 
Carlyle,  Thomas,  ii.  316 
Cashel,  Archbishop  of,  sec  Leahy 
Caswall,  Father  Edward,   i.    225.     ii, 

41,  53.  324,  413-414,  572 

Catholic  Church  [see  also  Infallibility 
and  Papacy) :  Newman's  early  in- 
vectives against  Rome,  i.  7,  68, 
et  seq.  ;  Newman's  view  of,  in  re- 
lation to  unbelief,  13,  415,  570 ; 
and  Rationalism,  23  ;  in  Rome,  53 ; 
condition  of,  in  England  in  1845, 
lOi  ;  Newman's  letter  on  its  charac- 
ter as  one  organised  polity,  129- 
130;  spirit  of  worship  in,  139-140  ; 
rigidity  of,  157;  the  most  effectual 
upholder  of  Theism  and  Christianity, 
412-413  ;  guardian  of  morals,  414- 
415;  guardian  of  faith,  416;  Acton 
on  its  position  in  modern  society, 
468-469  ;  Veuillol's  views  of  its  rela- 
tions to  the  modern  world,  470 ; 
Newman's  letter  to  the  Globe  on  his 
reported  dissatisfaction  with,  579- 
581  ;  nature  of  its  unity,  654.  ii. 
520 ;  the  great  support  of  faith  against 
modern  Agnosticism,  498  ;  its  wit- 
ness to  spiritual  truth,  506,  507 

Catholic  Gazette,  i.  376 

Catholic  Standard,  Newman's  letters 
to,  on  the  Crimean  War,  i.  352.  Also 
referred  to,  ii.  320 

Catholic  Truth  Society,  ii.  487 

Catholic  Union  of  Great  Britain,  ii. 
580-581 

Catholics,  'Old  English'  and  Oxford 
Movement,  i.  100  ;  out  of  favour  in 
Rome,  174;  their  character,  and 
their  dislike  of  devotional  innova- 
tions, 204-205 ;  their  attitude  towards 
Oratory,  2 1 2-2 13,  215;  their  ex- 
clusiveness  and  defective  education, 

452 

Cavour,  i.  519-520.     ii.  197 

Celibacy  of  the  clergy,  The  '  Apologia ' 
on,  ii.  28 

Celtic  literature  in  the  Catholic  Univer- 
sity of  Ireland,  i.  350 

Certainty  [see  also  Faith)  and  Catholic 
Theology,  i.  163,  442;  Newman  on 
reasonableness  of,  442 ;  the  great 
philosophical  difficulty  of  Catholic- 
ism, 442,  623,  et  seq.  ii.  43,  242, 
245,  271,  465-466,  587-592.  See 
also  '  Grammar  of  Assent. ' 

Cesarini,  Kr.,  i.  220 

Challoner,  Bishop,  ii.  107 

Charles,  St.,  i.  141-142. 

Charlestown,  Bishop  of,  i.  426,  427 

Charlotte,  Princess,  ii.  341 

Chateaubriand,  i.  30S,  315,  397,  461 


Cheadle,  St.  Wilfrid's,  Cotton  Hall, 
i.  202,  214,  221,  226,  235-236 

Cherubini,  ii.  351 

Christian  Obse>~'er,  i.  625.     ii.  434  ;/. 

Christian  Times,  i.  255  n.,  277 

Christian  Year,  i.  57.     ii.  318 

Christianity,  The  type  of  primitive, 
i.  49  ;  and  scientific  investigation, 
401-403,  408-409,  474  ;  Newman  on 
its  triple  division  into  a  philosophy, 
a  political  p>ower,  and  a  religious  rite, 
ii.  421-423 

Christie,  Albany,  i.  21,  84,   103,  I20, 

132,  135.  177 
Church,  Miss  Helen  (Mrs.   Paget),   ii. 

520.     See  also  Letters 
Church,  Miss  Mary,  ii.  520-521 
Church,  Mrs.,  ii.  390 
Church,  R.  W.   (Dean  of  St.   Paul's), 

i.  56,  60,  79,  S3,  85,  96,   III,   126, 

549.    ii.  19,  21,  23,  73,  75,  90,  109, 

205,  207,  320,  332,  348,  381,  et  seq., 

411,  418,  425,   451,    487  «.,    515, 

529,554,583-     See  also  \.^\X^x% 
Church,  Anglican,  see  Anglican  Church 
Church,  Greek,  i.  129 
Church  and  State,  Relations  of,  i.  234. 

ii.  460-462 
'Church  of  the  Fathers,'  see  Historical 

Sketches 
Church  Review,  ii.  33 
Churton,  E.,  ii.  571 
Clarendon,  Lord,  i.  310,  312 
Clement  of  Alexandria,  St.,  i.  47 
Clifford,  Dr. ,  Bishop  of  Clifton,  i.  148. 

ii.    112,    113,    123,    191,  459,    560, 

584.     See  also  Letters 
Clifford  of   Chudleigh,    Lord,    i.  no, 

144,  148  n. 
Clough,  Arthur  Hugh,  i.  309 
Clutton,  Henry,  ii.  60 
Cockburn,  Sir  .\lexander,  counsel  for 

Newman    in  Achilli    trial,    i.    291  ; 

moves  for  new  trial,  297-299 
Coffin,  Robert,  i.  84,   107,  in,   135, 

137,  182,  191,  205,  222.     ii.  142 
Colenso,  Bishop,  i.  418.     ii.  117 
Coleridge,  Father,  S.J.,  ii.  77,  78,  98, 

114,  123,  133,   140,  205,  442.     See 

also  Letters 
Coleridge,  Lady,  ii.  391 
Coleridge,  Lord,    i.   60,    74.     ii.   411, 

579-580.     .SVt' a/j-^  Letters 
Coleridge,  Sarah,  i.  309 
Coleridge,  Sir  John,  gives  judgment  in 

Achilli  trial,  i.  301 
Coleridge,  S.  T.,  i.  49 
Comber  bach,  Fr. ,  ii.  138- 1 39 
'  Conflicts  with  Rome  ' :  Sir  J.  Acton's 
article     in     IIo;'ic    and    Foreign,    i. 

565 


598 


LIFE   OF   CARDINAL   NEWMAN 


Conscience  (see  also  '  Grammar  of 
Assent ') :  Newman's  sense  of  God's 
presence  in,  i.  30  ;  its  dictates  certain, 
but  easily  obscured,  413-415.  An 
argument  for  God's  existence,  ii.  265, 
269  ;  supremacy  of,  404  ;;. 

Constance,  Council  of,  ii.  561 

Conteviporary  Review,  Newman's  ar- 
ticle in,  on  '  The  Development  of 
Religious  Error,'  ii.  505-507  ;  also 
referred  to,  521 

'  Conversion,'  Newman's  early,  i.  30 

Converts,  Newman  on,  i.  134  ;  their 
faith,  218-219  ;  Sir  J.  Coleridge  on 
their  deterioration,  301  ;  relations  of, 
with  '  Old  English '  Catholics,  452 

Cope,  Sir  William,  ii.  45.  See  also 
Letters 

Copeland,  George,  ii.  554 

Copeland,  W.  J.,  referred  to,  i.  17,  85, 
117,  597,  650.  ii.  19,  50  n.,  72, 
90,  130,  396,  411,  434,  577.  See 
also  Letters. 

Copernicanism,  i.  400,  404.     ii.  424 

Copleston,  Dr.,  i.  37 

'  Cor  ad  cor  loquitur, '  Newman's  motto 
as  a  Cardinal,  ii.  457 

Corn  Exchange  Lectures,  see  '  Present 
Position  of  Catholics ' 

Coj-respondaiit,  The,  i.  464,  550.  ii. 
212 

Cotton  Hall,  see  Cheadle 

Cowper,  i.  652 

Cox,  Dr.,  President  of  St.  Edmund's 
College,  i.  109,  616 

Crabbe  quoted,  ii.  91,  354 

Craik,  G.  L. ,  ii.  4 

Crawley,  Rev.  Mr.,  Rector  of  Little- 
more,  ii.  206 

Crimean  War,  Letters  on,  by  New 
i.    352-354.     Newman's  interest  in, 

ii-  513 

Cromwell,  Oliver,  responsible,  in  New- 
man's view,  for  Irish  hatred  of 
England,  ii.  517 

CuUen,  A.  H.,  see  Letters 

Cullen,  Archbishop  (afterwards  Car- 
dinal), and  the  '  New  Ultramontane' 
party,  i.  13  ;  invites  Newman  to  be 
Rector  of  the  Catholic  University, 
275-276,  311  ;  opponent  of  the 
Queen's  Colleges,  275,  305  ;  educa- 
tional ideals  differ  from  New- 
man's, 311,  320,  355,  366-370; 
invites  Newman  to  lecture  in 
Dublin,  311;  translated  from  the 
See  of  Armagh  to  Dublin,  316 ; 
instalment  as  Archbishop  of  Dublin, 
318  ;  appoints  officials  in  the  Uni- 
versity without  Newman's  assent, 
321-324  ;  his  reliance  on  Newman  to 


overcome  Irish  apathy  on  University 
scheme,  324 ;  his  delay  in  giving 
Newman  instructions,  325-328  ;  at- 
tends Newman's  preliminary  lectures, 
327  ;  arranges  for  public  reception  of 
Newman,  32S-329  ;  and  the  question 
of  Newman  being  made  bishop,  330, 
357.  3^5-386  ;  proposed  by  the 
Pope  as  Chancellor  of  the  Univer- 
sity, 330  ;  and  the  University 
Church,  347  ;  objects  to  certain  of 
Newman's  appointments,  359,  361- 
362;  his  dilatoriness  in  correspond- 
ing with  Newman,  363-364  n.  ;  his 
career  and  views  summarised,  365- 
367 ;  his  difficulties  with  Dr. 
McHale's  party,  370-371  ;  inter- 
view with  Newman  on  latter's  pro- 
posed resignation,  376-377  ;  New- 
man's account  of  his  differences 
with,  380-384  ;  his  jealousy  of 
English  interference  in  University 
scheme,  384-385 ;  and  Newman's 
final  resignation  of  Rectorship,  445- 
450.  Reports  favourably  to  Pius  IX. 
on  Newman's  writings,  ii.  192;  praise 
of  Newman  in  Lenten  Pastoral  of 
1875,  408,  561.  Also  referred  to, 
i.  312,  329,  341,  354,  458,  484, 
629.  ii.  176,  189.  See  also 'L&iiGxs 
Curci,  Father,  ii.  505  «. ,  561 
Curtis,  Father,  S.J.,  i.  333-334 


Dalgairns,  J.  D.,  i.   84,  93,  94«., 

120,   124,   135-137,   153,   157,   159. 

160.  169,   171,   174,   182,  192,   198, 

199,  205,  214,  216,  217,   223,  226, 

549.       ii.   332,  413,  481.     See  also 

Letters 
Darboy,  Mgr.,  Archbishop  of  Paris,  ii. 

211 
Darnell,  Fr.  Nicholas,  Head  Master  of 

Oratory  School,  i.  455,  456  ;  resigns, 

456;  referred  to,  214,  264 
Darras,  Abbe,   Church    History   of,   i. 

472 
Darwin,  Charles,  i.  470.     ii.  342 
Daunt,  O'Neill,  see  Letters 
Davy,  Sir  IL,   and  the  Miracle  of  St. 

Januarius,  i.  1S9.   Referred  to,  ii.  331 
Deane,    Emmeline,   ii.   527.     See  also 

Letters 
Deane,  Louisa,  ii.  554 
Deane,  Mrs. ,  ii.  514.     See  also  Letters 
de  Berulle,  Cardinal,  ii.  451 
de  Bonald,  Vicomte,  i.  44,  308,  460 
deBuck,  Father,  i.  474,  504,  510,  634, 

636 
d'Eckstein,  Baron  :  Newman  objects  to 

his  article  for  the  Rambler,  i.  505 


INDEX 


599 


Degenelles,  Abbe,  Newman's  visit  to, 

i-  135 

Delany,  Bishop,  i.  338,  366 

Delany,  Dr.,  Rector  of  University 
College,  Stephen's  Green,  i.  310 

de  Lisle,  Ambrose  Phillipps  (formerly 
Mr,  Lisle  Phillipps),  i.  Ill,  127, 
128,  640.  ii.  82,  115.  See  also 
Letters 

de  Luca,  Cardinal,  ii.  163,  175,  179, 
181,  547 

de  Lugo,  the  Jesuit  theologian,  on 
certitude  in  matters  of  Faith,  i.  163  ; 
quoted,  169  it.  ;  also  referred  to, 
248,  250 

de  Maistre,  Count  Joseph,  i.  23,  315, 
397.  460,  461,  464-  ii-  79.  214, 
420 

Democracy  Newman  viewed  with  dis- 
trust, ii.  118,  513 

Denbigh,  Earl  of,  i.  256.  ii.  143,  485, 
561.     St-t;  also  Letters 

de  Ravignan,  Pere,  i.  282,  461 

de  Rossi,  Count,  i.  194,  462 

De  Tocqueville,  i.  308 

Development,  Doctrinal  (j-t'ea/y^  Faith): 
Newman's  philosophical  theory  of,  i. 
2  ;  principle  of,  and  Christian  evi- 
dences, 158;  Newman  re-expresses 
his  general  theory  in  deference 
to  Perrone's  criticism,  186,  et  set/.  ; 
its  similarity  to  that  of  Moehler's 
'  Symbolik,'  315;  of  Christian 
Doctrine,  439  ;  and  Infallibility 
of  the  Church,  441  ;  Dcillinger's 
views  on,  563  ;  letters  of  Newman 
on,  639,  640 

'  Development  of  Christian  Doctrine, 
Essay  on  '  :  Newman's  infinite 
trouble  in  writing,  i.  86,  et  seq.  ; 
quoted,  87,  et  seq.  ;  unfinished  at 
time  of  Newman's  conversion,  94  ; 
publication  of,  99,  615  ;  Dr.  Wise- 
man declines  to  have  its  theology 
revised  by  a  censor,  615;  great  public 
interest  in,  121  ;  impression  made 
by,  especially  in  Scotland,  156,  157  ; 
reception  in  America,  159,  160; 
reception  of,  by  Roman  divines,  l6l, 
et  seq.  ;  French  translation  of,  161, 
168,  170,  et  seq.  ;  opposition  to,  on 
the  part  of  some  Roman  theologians, 
174 ;  Perrone's  criticisms  of,  184, 
et  seq.  Attacked  by  Dr.  Brovvnson, 
ii.  270  ;  dedication  of  new  edition, 
426,  et  seq.  ;  Newman  on  criticisms 
of,  418,  et  seq.  Also  referred  to, 
i.  43,  83,  123,  133,  223,  237, 
425,  553-  i'-  109.  559.  5^7.  590, 
591 
'  Development     of    Religious    Error,' 


Newman's   article   in  Contemporary 
Review,  ii.  505,  et  seq. 

de  Vere,  Aubrey,  and  Newman,  i.  58, 
320;  quoted,  66,  231,  309.  Con- 
gratulates Newman  on  the  offer  of 
Cardinalate,  ii.  581.  Also  referred 
to,  i.  359  M.  ii.  245.  See  also 
Letters 

Devotional  writings  by  Newman,  ii. 
364,  et  seq. 

'  Difficulties  of  Anglicans '  (vol.  i.,  con- 
taining the  King  William  Street 
lectures),  i.  186,  187,  195,  196, 
230,  et  seq.,  265,  274,  654.  ii.  316, 
400 

'  Difficulties  of  Anglicans  '  (vol.  ii. ),  see 
Letter  to  Dr.  Pusey  ;  Letter  to  Duke 
of  Norfolk 

'  Discipline  and  Influence,'  see '  Histori- 
cal Sketches  ' 

'  Discourses  to  Mixed  Congregations,' 
see  Sermons 

Disraeli,  and  the  Catholic  University 
of  Ireland,  i.  352  n.  Referred  to, 
ii.  117 

Dixon,  Joseph,  Archbishop  of  Armagh, 

i-  372,  375 

Dmouski,  ii.  197 

DoUinger,  Ignatius  :  his  estimate  of 
Newman,  i.  3,  444,  446  ;  Newman 
visits,  192  ;  his  work  for  Church  in 
Germany,  438  ;  Newman's  sympathy 
with,  19,  439,  444,  445  ;  his  visits  to 
Newman,  443  ;  his  article  in  Rambler 
denounced  in  Rome,  479,  et  seq.  pa- 
tron of  Rambler,  504,  509,  510,  634  ; 
article  on  his  work  in  Home  and 
Foreign  Review,  543  ;  his  Presi- 
dential Address  to  Munich  Congress 
and  its  effects,  562,  et  seq.,  640. 
And  the  Old  Catholics,  ii.  372  ;  his 
secession,  375  ;  Newman's  condem- 
nation of  his  secession,  379-380 ; 
Newman's  intended  visit  to,  as  a 
Cardinal  with  a  view  to  changing 
his  attitude  towards  Rome,  466. 
See  also  i.  264,  459,  461,  464,  467, 
474.  ii.  401,  544,  557.  See  also 
Letters 

Dolman's  Magazine,  Mr.  Price's  article 
in,  on  the  Oratorian  Saints'  Lives,  i. 
207,  212 

Dominic,  Fr.,  i.  92,  et  seq.  See 
also  94,  95,  105,  123 ;  see  also 
Letters 

Dominicans,  The,  i.  124,  ct  seq.,  144, 
167,  16S,  169.     ii.  406,  561 

Donatisis,  Schism  of,  i.  67,  616 

Dotti,  the  Chevalier,  i.  133 

Douai  College,  i.  126 

Downside,  i.  222 


6oo 


LIFE   OF  CARDINAL  NEWMAN 


Doyle,    Sir   Francis,    i.    60.       ii.   241, 

356 
Drane,    Mother    Frances  Rapliael,  see 

Letters,  ii.  480 
'  Dream  of  Gerontius,'  ii.  76,  78,  203, 

342,  356,  514 
Dryden,  ii.  44 
Dublin     Oratory     proposed,     i.     345, 

347. 
Dublin  Review,  Wiseman's  article  in, 
on  Dr.  Achilli,  i.  278,  280  ;  pro- 
prietorship and  editorship  of,  given  to 
VV.  G.Ward  by  Manning,  546,  et seq. ; 
Newman  refuses  to  write  for,  548, 
et  seq.  ;  effect  of  Ward's  editorship 
on  Newman,  549.  Ward's  articles 
in,  on  Pius  IX. 's  utterances,  ii.  82, 
83  ;  Ward's  articles  in,  used  by 
Pusey  in  the  '  Eirenicon,'  91  ;  New- 
man denounces  attitude  of,  404  ;  its 
favourable  review  of  Newman's 
*  Grammar  of  Assent,'  273  ;  and  of  his 
'  Letter  to  the  Duke  of  Norfolk,' 
406,  et  seq.,  565.  Also  referred  to, 
i.  284,  480,  489,  507,  510,  523  «., 
537,  549,  550,  635,  637.  ii.  43, 
48,  151,  213,  425,  439,  552 

Duncan,  Dr.,  Life  of,  ii.  393 

Dupanloup,  Bishop  of  Orleans,  i. 
10,  19,  388,  550.  ii.  80,  82,  83,  loi, 
123,  211.  286,  372,  552 

*  Durham  Letter '  by  Lord  John  Russell 
'  on  Papal  Aggression,'  i.  255,  318 


Eaglesim,  Fr.  Paul,  ii.  457,  468 

Ealing,  Newman  sent  to  school  at,  i. 
29 

'  Ecce  Homo,'  Seeley's,  reviewed  by 
Newman,  ii.  118,  399 

Education  :  ( i )  Catholic  {see  also  Bir- 
mingham Oratory  School ;  Oxford  ; 
University,  Catholic,  in  Dublin)  :  i. 
458,  515,  516.  ii.  /^y,etseq.,  121, 
et    seq.,    189,    540,    541,   542,    554, 

555   . 

Education:  (2)  mixed,  Irish  Episcopate 
opposed  to,  i.  305 ;  why  feared, 
305-311  ;  difficulty  of  avoiding,  335, 
336 ;  Cullen's  opposition  to,  365  ; 
Cullen  and  Newman's  different  con- 
ceptions in  opposing,  368,  3O9.  W.  G. 
Ward's  views  on,  ii.  63 ;  policy  of 
Rome  in  regard  to,  157,  i6o,  166; 
forced  on  the  Irish,  517,  518 

Edwards,  G.  T.,  ii.  333,  526,  535. 
See  also  Letters 

Egypt  and  Soudan  War,  Newman's 
interest  in,  ii.  513 

'  Eirenicon,  The,'  by  Dr.   Pusey,  ii.  91, 


et  seq.,   ()(),etseq.     Also  referred  to, 

i.  214,    232.    i'trc  a/r<7  '  Letter  to  Dr, 

Pusey ' 
Eliot,  George,  ii.  355 
Emancipation,     Catholic,     Newman's 

views  on,  1829,  i.  44 
Emly,    Lord    (the    Right  Hon.    Wm. 

-Monsell),  i.  300,  311,  320,  321,  335, 

351,  476,   550,   S^T,   634.     ii.   143, 

145-147,  155,  196,  211,  472 
English  College,  Rome,  ii.  463-464 
Ennodius,  Bishop,  ii.  575 
Ephesus,  Council  of,  ii.  105  ;    referred 

to,  562 
Errington,  Archbishop,  i.  421.  ii.  560, 

580.     See  also  Letters 
Errington,  Mr.,  i.  335 
Established      Church,      see     Anglican 

Church 
Estcourt,  Canon,  i.  103.      ii.  56.      Sec 

also  Letters 
Eusebius,  ii.  39 
Evangelicals  and  Evangelicalism,  i.  30, 

36.     ii.  13,  526,  527 
Eyston,  Charles,  ii.  519 


Faker,  Frederick  William,  i.  19, 
67,  84,  103,  108,  131,  133,  202, 
205,  206,  et  seq.,  208,  211,  213,  216, 
220,  223,  224,  225,  228,  229-230, 
et  seq.,  3S9,  417,  423,  428,  450,  451, 
472,  495.  ii.  72,  81,  91,  99,  107, 
125,  161,  170,  172,  173.  See  also 
Letters 

Fairbairn,  Principal,  accuses  Newman 
of  philosophical  scepticism,  ii.  505, 
et  seq. 

'  Family  Adventures,'  Mrs.  Thomas 
Mozley's,  i.  28  n. 

Feilding,  Viscount  (j^i?  Denbigh,  Earl 
of),  i.  256,  et  seq. 

Fenelon,  i.  2,  3,  12.     ii.  420 

Fenianism,  ii.  119 

P'essler,  Bishop,  Secretary-General  to 
the  Vatican  Council,  i.  12.     ii.  373, 

409,  559,  561 
Ffoulkes,  Mr.,  ii.  284 
Fideism,  i.  164,  174 
Fitzgerald,  Lord,  i.  300,  335 
Flanagan,    Father     Stanislas,    i.     214, 

334,  341-     ii-  84 
Flannery,  Dr.,   Dean  of  the  Catholic 

University  of  Ireland,  i.  324  «. 
Foran,  Nicholas  (Bishop  of  Waterford), 

i-338 
Forbes,  Bishop,  of  Brechin,  ii.  216 
'  Formation  of  Christendom,  The,'  by 

T.  W.  Allies,  i.  309 
Formby,  Mr.,  i.  108,  120,  177,  227 


1 


INDEX 


60 1 


Fottrell,  Mr.,  ii.  397,  398.  See  also 
Letters 

Fourdrinier,  Miss  Eliza,  ii.  484.  See 
Letters 

Fourdriniers,  The,  i.  27  and  n.,  614 

Fox,  Caroline,  ii.  333 

France,  Church  of,  i.  314.    ii.  344,  520 

Franco-Prussian  War,  ii.  118,  119,  554 

Fransoni,  Cardinal,  i.  144 ;  ordains 
Newman  and  St.  John,  184  ;  referred 
to,  126,  174 

Franzelin,  Cardinal,  attacks  Newman's 
Katubler  article  '  On  Consulting  the 
Faithful,'  ii.  174,  548  ;  joins  with 
Kleutgen  in  writing  Historical  In- 
troduction to  definition  of  Papal 
Infallibility,  306;  referred  to,  iSo 

Friedrich,  Prof.,  ii.  80,  372 

Froschammer,  i.  465,  564 

Froude,  H.    (junr.),  i.    646,  et  seq.     ii. 

569 

Froude,  J.  A.,  i.  60,  61,  189,  235, 
239,  309.     ii.  I,  26,  472,  473 

Froude,  Miss  E.  M.  (Baroness  Anatole 
von  Hiigel),  i.  644.  ii.  569,  572. 
Sec  also  Letters 

Froude,  Mrs.  William,  i.  86,  115,  239, 
et  seq.,  301,  336,  539.  ii.  90,  96, 
465.    See  also  Letters 

Froude,  R.  Hurrell,  Newman's  friend- 
ship with,  i.  39,  et  seq. ;  tutor  of 
Oriel,  40 ;  influence  of,  on  New- 
man, 42  ;  goes  to  Mediterranean 
with  Newman,  50,  et  seq.  ;  death  of, 
60  ;  memoirs  of,  60.  His  notion  of 
biography,  ii.  314.  Referred  to,  i. 
36,  56,  57,  215,  227.  ii.  333,  513, 
587,  590.     See  also  Letters 

Froude,  William,  i.  22,  238,  241,  294, 
622,  et  seq.,  644,  et  seq.  ii.  22,  34, 
43,  207,  465,  466,  560,  586.  See 
also  Letters 

Furse,  Mr.,  ii.  369 


Gabriel,  Sister  Mary,  ii.  387 

Gabrielli,  Contessa,  i.  192 

Gaisford,  Mr.,  views  of,  on  Catholics 

going  to   Oxford,   ii.   66,   542.     See 

also  Letters 
Galileo  case,   its   effects  on  theology 

and  interpretation  of  Scripture,  see 

Copernicanism 
Galitiin,  Princess,  i.  113 
Gallicanism,    Dollmgcr    an    opponent 

of,    i.  445.      Gradual  extinction  of, 

ii.    214.     Also  referred  to,   i.    460, 

461.     ii.  420 
Gallwey,  Fr. ,  ii.  565 
Garibaldi,  i.  526,  581 


Gaskell,  Mrs.,  ii.  355 

Gaume,  Abbe,  i.  417,  463,  472 

Gazette,  The  Ii-isk   University,  i.  347, 

348»     349,    388,    396,     398.      See 

University  Lectures 
Genesis,     Book    of,     article     on,     in 

Home  and  foreii^n  Review,   i.    542, 

543,  551,  561 
Gentili,  Fr. ,  i.  209 
Gerard,   Fr.,   S.J.,    ii.   452.     See  also 

Letters 
'  Gerontius,  Dream  of,'  see  '  Dream  of 

Gerontius ' 
Gerson,  i.  270 
Gesu  College,  Rome,  i.  151 
Ghianda,  Abljate,  i.  143,  144,  167 
Gibbon,  Edward,  i.  34,   57,  309,  523. 

.ii-  44>  343. 

Giberne,  Miss  Mary  Rosina  (Sister 
Maria  Pia),  i.  147,  148  ;  assists  New- 
man in  obtaining  witnesses  for  Achilli 
trial,  281 -283,  289  ;  also  referred 
to,  103,  112,  151,  264,  358.  ii.  67, 
412,  432,  466-467,  483,  516.  See 
also  Letters 

Gillis,  Dr.  James  (Vicar  Apostolic, 
Eastern  Scotland),  i.  133,  156,  157. 
See  also  Letters 

Gillow,  Dr.,  i.  493,  495,  496,  635 

Gioberti,  i.  194 

Gladstone,  Mrs.,  ii.  401 

Gladstone,  W.  E.,  i.  60,  70,  523. 
ii.  93,  117,  188,  317,  329,  332,  382, 
397,  401,  et  seq.,  513,  517,  559 

Glion,  ii.  245 

Gordon,   Fr.  Joseph,  i.    198  and   w., 
214,    263,    282,    302.      ii.   78,  414, 
514,  520,  572 

Gordon,  Fr.  Philip,  i.  198  and  n.,  214  ; 
203,  204.     See  also  Letters 

Gordon,  General,  ii.  357,  514,  515 

(jorham  case,  i.  230,  231 

Gothic  architecture,  i.  229,  548 

Goudon,  M.,  i.  135,  137 

Goulburn,  Dean,  i.  309 

Graham,  Sir  J.,  i.  309 

'  Grammar  of  Assent,  Essay  in  Aid 
of '  :  genesis  and  purpose  of,  ii.  208, 
244,  245,  270,  400;  its  analysis  of  the 
grounds  for  Faith,  244,  et  seq.  ; 
Reasoning  and  Faith,  246,  247  ; 
Faith  and  the  Will,  247,  248,  276, 
277  ;  the  Illative  Sense,  255  ;  New- 
man's fears  as  to  its  reception,  253, 
254  ;  Empirical  character  ol,  262, 
265-266  ;  Philosophical  value  of, 
262  ;  dedication  to  Mr.  Serjeant 
Bellasis,  262,  267  n.  ;  the  '  Illative 
Sense  '  and  the  psychology  of  Certi- 
tude, 263  ;  Conscience  as  an 
Argument    for    Existence   of    God, 


6o2 


LIFE   OF   CARDINAL   NEWMAN 


264,  265,  274 ;  Conscience  and 
the  moral  sense,  265  ;  Leslie  Ste- 
phen attacks,  in  Frasei^s  Magazine, 
268  ;  it  accepts  the  argument  for 
Theism  drawn  from  '  Order,'  but 
not  from  '  Design,'  269  ;  the  Month 
and,  269  ;  W.  G.  Ward  welcomes, 
in  the  Dtiblin  Review,  271 -273,  274  ; 
as  an  Apologetic  work,  275  ;  Real 
and  Notional  assent,  336,  489  ; 
Dr.  Fairbairn  regards  its  philosophy 
as  sceptical,  505.  Also  referred  to,  i. 
12,  22,   158,  425.     ii.  34,  346,  385, 

397,  398,  525-  554,  587-590 
Grant,  Dr.  Thomas  (Bishop  of  South- 

wark),  i.    174,   183,   191,  331,  357. 

ii.  64,  540,  542.     See  also  Letters 
Gratry,  Pere,  i.   509,  510,   634,    636. 

ii.  loi 
Greek  Church,  the  question  of  union 

with  Anglican  or  Catholic,  ii.  520 
Gregory  Nazianzen,    St.,    i.    374.     ii. 

530 
Gregory  VII.,  Pope  (St.  Hildebrand), 

i.  268,  343 
Gregory  XVI.,  Pope,  i.  123,275,  365, 

461,  462,  506.     ii.  100,  458 
Griffiths,  Thomas,  Vicar  Apostolic  of 

London    District,  i.   102,   no,    133, 

174,  197,  214  ;/.,  216.     ii.  103 
Grissell,  Hartwell  de  la  Garde,  ii.  486 
Guardian,  The,  i.  484,   515,  625.      ii. 

45,  558 
Guizot,  i.  308 


Hallahan,  Mother  Margaret 
Mary,  \.  295.  ii.  324-325,  480. 
See  also  Letters 

Ham  (near  Richmond),  Newman's 
early  days  at,  i.  29.     ii.  337-340 

Hamilton,  Sir  William,  i.  638 

Hampden,  Dr.,  i.  57,  306.     ii.  434«., 

513 
Handel,  ii.  350 
Haneburg,  Abbot,  i.  562 
Hanmer,  A.  J.,  i.  570 
Harding,  Sir  John,  ii.  207 
Harper,  Fr.  Thomas,  S.J.,  i.  593. 

235,  269,  554,  577.     See  also  Letters 
Harting,  Mr.,  i.  287 
Hawkins  (Provost  of  Oriel),  i.  37,  42, 

43,  372 

Hayden,  Thomas,  i.  350,  359  ?^ 

Haydn,  Johann  Michael,  ii.  350 

Hecker,  Fr.  Isaac  T.,  ii.  535 

Hedley,  John  Cuthbert,  O.S.B.  (Bishop 
of  Newport),  ii.,486,  581.  See  also 
Letters 

Hefele,  Karl  Joseph  (Bishop  of  Rotten- 
burg),  ii.  371,  372,  373 


Hegel,  i.  308 

'  Help,  I^ord,  the  souls  that  Thou  hast 
made'  (Newman's  hymn),  ii.  319- 
320 

Hennessy,  Henry,  i.   350,  359 «.,  629 

Herbert  of  Lea,  Lady,  ii.  447,  464  «. 
See  also  Letters 

Herbert,  Sidney  (afterwards  Lord 
Herbert  of  Lea),  i.  191,  607 

Hermes,  Georg,  i.  163,  168,  172, 
542  n. 

Hewit,  Fr. ,  ii.  505  n.     See  also  Letters 

'  Historical  Sketches,'  First  volume : 
'  Historj'  of  the  Turks,'  ii.  316;;., 
369.  Second  volume  :  'The  Bene- 
dictine Centuries,'  i.  432  ;  published 
in  Atlantis,  433 ;  Newman  on  the 
Genius  of  the  Benedictines,  434 ; 
Benedictine  Schools,  conservative 
habit  of,  433  n.,  et  seq.  '  Church  ot 
the  Fathers,'  ii.  353  ;  '  The  Trials 
of  Theodoret,'  562  ;  '  St.  John 
Chrysostom,'  511.  Third  volume: 
publication  of,  i.  348-349  ;  general 
character  o  ,  396.  '  Discipline  and 
Influence,  quoted,  ii.  336-338,  340. 
Quoted,  i.  194,  195,  398  ;  also  re- 
ferred to,  478.     ii.  396  n. 

Hoadly,  Benjamin,  ii.  117 

Hobbes,  Thomas,  i.  411 

Holland,  Canon  Scott,  his  recollections 
of  a  visit  to  Newman  in  1876,  ii. 
369-370.    See  also  Letters 

Holmes,  Miss,  i.  428.  ii.  329,  412. 
See  also  Letters 

Holy  See,  The,  see  Papacy 

Home  and  Foreign  Review,  The,  i.  537, 
ct  seq.  ;  565,  et  seq.,  5S5,  637.  ii. 
49,  62,  151,  495-496,  499 

'  Home  Thoughts  Abroad,'  Newman's, 
in  the  British  Magazine,  i.  56 

Honorius  I.,  Pope,  The  case  of,  and 
Papal  Infallibility,  i.  504.  ii.  235, 
237,  556;557,  562-563 

Hooker,  Richard,   i.  45,  411 

Hope,  Miss,   see  Letters 

Hope-Scott,  James  R.  (Hope,  J.  R.), 
protests  against  the  Gorham  decision, 
i.  230 ;  joins  the  Catholic  Church, 
264  ;  consulted  by  Newman  in  connec- 
tion with  the  AchiUi  trial,  278-279, 
284.  His  sympathy  with  Newman  in 
the  Kingsley  affair,  ii.  25  ;  Newman 
consults,  as  to  possibility  of  raising 
money  for  an  C3xford  Oratory,  51  ; 
subscribes  towards  Oxford  Oratory 
and  Hall,  53  ;  co-operates  with 
Newman  in  second  Oxford  scheme, 
130-131,  152,  155,  180-184;  his 
death,  389  ;  Newman  on  his  charac- 
ter,   519.       Also  referred  to,  i.  58, 


INDEX 


605 


96,  III,  166,  167,  260,  300,  305, 

3".  332,  338.  341.  347,  363, 
451,  454,  505,  605,  623,  634,  652. 
ii-  43,  58,  65,  74,  187,  195,  197, 
:-67,  316 «.,  322,  387,  38S,  389, 
/j.01.     See  also  Letters 

Hopkins,  Father,  S.J.,  ii.  527.  See 
also  Letters 

Hornyold,  Bishop,  Vicar  Apostolic  of 
Midland  District,  i.  119 

Hort,  Dr.  J.  A.  F.,  i.  469 

Howard,  Cardinal,  ii.  448,  458,  463. 
See  also  Letters 

Howard,  Lord  Edward,  ii.  143,  390 

Hiigel,  Baron  von,  ii.  504  w.  See  also 
Letters 

Hulst,  Mgr.  d',  i.  466  n. 

Hume,  David,  i.  57,  309,  625 

Husenbeth,  Dr.,  i.  616.     ii.  104 

Hutchison,  Fr.  William  Antony,  i.  205, 
217,  283 

Hutton,  Richard  Holt  (editor  of  the 
Spectator),  on  Newman's  literary 
style,  i.  16  ;  on  Newman's  poems, 
52 ;  on  the  final  passage  of  the  '  Essay 
on  Development,'  95  ;  and  the 
'  Lectures  on  Difficulties  of  Angli- 
cans,' 233,  252.  Intervenes  in  the 
Kingsley  controversy,  ii.  4,  et  seq.  ; 
his  estimate  of  Kingsley's  pamphlet 
against  Newman,  11-12;  invites 
Newman  to  join  the  Metaphysical 
Society,  332  ;  Newman's  affection 
for,  334-335,  522  ;  advises  Newman 
in  his  controversy  with  Fairbairn, 
508,  511  ;  writes  an  appreciation  ot 
Newman's  works  in  the  Contem- 
porary /ievieu;  52 1.  Also  referred 
to,  204,  205.     See  also  Letters 

Huxley,  Prof.,  on  Newman's  scepticism, 
i.  16 ;  on  scientific  methods  and 
traditional  beliefs,  307  ;  and  theo- 
logical speculation,  392  ;  also  re- 
ferred to,  401.  ii.  332,  333  «.,  494, 
571-572 

Hyacinth,  St..  i.  152 

Hyacinthe,  Pt;re,  ii.  375.  See  also 
Letters 


'  Idea  of  a  University,'  sec  University 
Lectures 

'  Ideal  of  a  Christian  Church,'  Ward's, 
publication  and  condemnation,  i.  79. 
Also  referred  to,  ii.  7,  224 

'  Idealism  in  Theology,'  Ryder's  pam- 
phlet on,  in  answer  to  W.  G.  Ward, 
ii.  224,  et  setj.  ;  Newman's  share  in, 
228-229;  controversy  on,  229-235; 
analysis  of,  224,  et  seq.  ;  referred  to, 
406 


Illative  Sense,  see  '  Grammar  of  Assent ' 

Immaculate  Conception  of  the  Blessed 
Virgin,  Doctrine  of,  its  bearing  on 
the  theory  of  development,  i.  161, 
164,  165,  1 85,  186  ;  once  opposed 
by  all  divines,  591.  ii.  225.  Also 
referred  to,  i.  195.     ii.  297 

Infallibility  of  the  Church,  i.  441.  ii. 
37,  et  seq.  ;  Papal  Infallibility,  210- 
215,  218-223,  224-228,  229,  et 
seq.,  231,  et  seq.  ;  Ward's  views  on, 
230-234  ;  modification  of  his  views, 
235,  286  ;  Renoufs  pamphlet  on  the 
Honorius  case,  235  ;  Newman  and  the 
Honorius  case,  235-236 ;  Ward  in 
the  Dublin  on  the  same,  237  ;  defi 
nition  of,  238-240,  279,  ct  seq.  ', 
Newman  on  the  necessity  for  dis- 
cussion before  its  definition,  282-283, 
286-289,  295-299  ;  deliberations 
of  the  Vatican  Council  on,  300 ; 
passing  of  the  definition  of,  303  ; 
Mozlcy's  account  of  the  scene,  303- 
306  ;  letter  of  inopportunist  Bishops 
to  Pius  IX.,  303  ;  historical  intro- 
duction to  the  definition,  by  Fran- 
zelin  and  Kleutgen,  306-307  ; 
exaggerations  of  Neo-Ultramontanes 
not  countenanced  by  the  Council,  307; 
Newman's  reception  of  the  definition, 
308-309,  371-380;  Newman  fears 
evil  consequences  from  it,  309- 
312  ;  Newman's  view  of  its  reason- 
ableness, 376,  et  seq.,  591  ;  '  True 
and  False  Infallibility,'  Fessler's 
work  on,  373,  409 ;  Newman's 
views  on  limitations  of,  552,  556, 
et  seq.  ;  also  referred  to,  10 1,  419, 
420,  432 

Infidelity,  Necessity  of  preventing 
spread  of,  i.  24 ;  natural  to  fallen  man, 
42  ;  Newman  deemed  it  his  vocation 
to  withstand,  58 ;  he  regarded  the 
Anglican  Church  as  a  bulwark  against 
its  spread  in  England,  232,  259  ; 
Newman's  views  as  to  how  it  should 
be  met,  ii.  49-50,  491,  et  passim 

Inglis,  Sir  Robert,  i.  218,  219,  220 

Inspiration  of  Scripture,  \'alican 
Council  proposes  to  treat,  ii.  281- 
282 ;  Newman's  letter  concerning 
the  Vatican  Council  Canons  on  the 
subject,  293-295;  Newman's  article 
in  Nineteenth  Century,  on  necessity 
for  some  reconsideration  of  generally 
received  opinions  on,  502,  ct  seq. 
Also  referred  to,  i.  418,  542;/. 

'  In  the  Way,'  by  Mrs.  Wilfrid  Ward, 
Newman's  letter  on,  ii.  528-529 

Ireland  {see  also  Catholic  University 
and  Bishops,  Irish)  :  Young  Ireland 


6o4 


LIFE   OF  CARDINAL   NEWMAN 


movement,  i.  320,  361,  362,  367, 
381,  382.  England's  ignorance  of, 
ii.  119;  members  of  Parliamenl  for, 
congratulate  Newman  on  Cardinalate, 
453 ;  his  reply  to  the  address,  454- 
455  ;  her  wrongs  a  source  of  sorrow 
to  Newman,  512-513;  character  of 
people  of,  517;  necessity  for  a 
University  for,  517-518;  Established 
Church  of,  how  viewed  by  the  Irish, 
518  ;  Newman's  view  of  Home  Rule 
for,  518;  never  yielded  to  the 
English,  527 
Irish   clergy,   Newman's   estimate    of, 

i-354 
Irish    University   Bill,   Gladstone's,  ii. 

397.  401 
Irons,  Dr. ,  ii.  33 

Irvine,  Canon,  ii.  206.    See  also  Letters 
Isidore,  St.,  Newman's  sermon  at  the 

Church   of,    in    Rome,    i.    154- 1 56, 

170,  174 
Italy,  Union  of,  i.  193,  et  seq.,  365 


Jager,  The  Abb£,  Newman's  corre- 
spondence with,  i.  59,  3x4 

Januarius,  St.,  Miracle  of  the  blood  of, 
i.  188,  189 

Jebb,  Sir  Richard,  ii.  473 

Jenkins,  Canon,  see  Letters 

Jenkyns,  Dr.,  of  Balliol,  i.  46 

Jesuits :  Newman  on  the  wisdom  of 
their  conduct  in  London,  i.  220  ;  in 
Rome,  145.  147,  151.  ?67,  i68  ; 
Ambrose  St.  John's  admiration  for, 
153  ;  Newman's  objection  to  joining, 
170;  Neapolitan  Jesuits,  Newman 
on,  188.  Newman  deprecates  the 
tone  of  the  attack  on  Pusey's  '  Eireni- 
con '  by  the  English  Jesuits  in  the 
Month,  II.  114,  115;  always  New- 
man's friends,  123,  406,  409  ;  their 
proposal  to  foim  a  Catholic  Uni- 
versity College,  195,  197  ;  invite 
Newman  to  preach  for  them,  321  ; 
Newman  not  in  agreement  with,  as 
to  the  best  manner  of  dealing  with 
some  theological  questions  of  the 
day,  398 ;  their  fiivourable  recep- 
tion of  his  '  Letter  to  the  Duke  of 
Norfolk,'  425.  Also  referred  to,  i. 
139,  143,  146,  171,  176 

John  Chryso.^tom,  St.,  Newman's  paper 
on,    i.    510;    also  referred    to,  343. 

ii-  134,  354,  430 
Johnson,  Manuel,  i.  108,  126,  350,650 
Johnson,  Samuel,  i.  411.    ii.  44 
Jones,  Fr. ,  see  Letters 
Joseph  II.  of  Austria,  i.  313  n. 
Jowett,  Benjamin,  i.  308,  610 


'  Justification,  Newman's  Lectures  on 
the  Doctrine  of,'  i.  637.  ii.  400. 
DoUinger  on  Newman's  work  on,  i. 
444 


Keble,  John,  his  influence  on  New- 
man, i.  42,  54 ;  his  sermon  on 
'  National  Apostasy,'  56  ;  his 
'  Christian  Year,'  57  ;  consulted  by 
Newman  in  writing  'Apologia,'  ii.  22 ; 
Newman's  last  visit  to,  and  descrip- 
tion of,  in  1865,  92-97  ;  his  death,  97; 
Newman's  tribute  to  his  sincerity, 
98  ;  his  dislike  of  '  the  aristocracy  of 
talent,'  333.  Also  referred  to,  i.  57, 
61,  85,  130,  225,  238,  300,  312,  620, 
622,  623.  ii.  29,  72,  73,  77,  81,  90, 
314,  318,  384.     See  also  Letters 

Keble,  Mrs. ,  ii.  22,  94,  97 

Kelly,  Dr.,  nominated  Vice-Rector  of 
Catholic  University,  i.  446 ;  also 
i-eferred  to,  448 

Ken,  Bishop,  i.  129 

Keneham,  Dr.,  President  of  Maynooth, 

i-  334 
Kenmare,    Lord    (3rd   Earl),    i.    335  ; 

(Lord     Castlerosse,    afterwards    4th 

Earl),  300,  335,  633 
Kenrick,    Archbishop   (of   Baltimore), 

i.    303,     426-427,    428.        ii.    404- 

See  also  Letters 
Ketteler,  Bishop,  of  Mayence,  i.  465 
King    William    Street     Lectures,    see 

'  Difficulties  of  Anglicans  ' 
Kingsley,  Rev.  Charles,  i.  11,  232,  614. 

His  attack  on  Newman,  ii.  i,  et  seq.  ; 

Newman  writes  of  him  after  his  death, 

45  ;  also  referred  to,  100,  401,  421. 

See  also  Letters  and  '  Apologia ' 
Kleutgen,  Fr.,  i.  463.     ii.  307 
Knox,    Father    Francis,    i.    104,    160, 

161,  192,  198,  199,  214.     ii.  199 


Lacordaire,  PiiRE,  Newman's  sym- 
pathy with,  i.  19 ;  his  attitude 
towards  the  modern  Liberal  move- 
ment, ii.  306,  459,  464  ;  resignation 
of  his  scat  in  French  Parliament, 
463.  Also  referred  to,  i.  10,  144, 
388,  409,  461,  470,  471,  495,  550- 
ii.  68,  80 

Laity,  English  Catholic,  i.  497,  502,  ct 
.>V(/.,  513,  553.  ii.  65,69;  address 
of,  to  Newman  in  1867,  143,  et  seq., 
544)  545  ;  3-lso  referred  to,  67 

Laity,  Irish  Catholic,  and  the  new 
intellectual  movement,  i.  314;  how 
regarded  hy  Irish  ecclesiastics,  315  ; 


INDEX 


60s 


Newman's  desire  to  give  them  a 
share  in  government  of  University, 
362-364,  3S1.  ii.  397.  Newman 
on  the  part  played  by  laymen  in 
Catholic  Apologetic,  i.  315,  397 

Lake,  Dean,  i.  60 

Lamennais,  M.  I'Abbe  P'elicite  de,  i. 
23,  175.  308,  315,  365.  460,  ct  seq., 
506,  635 

Landor,  W.  S.,  ii.  354 

'  Lead,  kindly  Light,'  i.  55.     ii.   357, 

359 
Leahy,    Dr.    Patrick,    Archbishop    of 
Cashel,  named  Vice-Rector  of  Catho- 
lic University,  i.    322,  et  seq.  ;    Pro- 
fessor  of  Holy   Scripture,    359  «.  ; 
appointed     Archbishop     of    Cashel, 
378  ;  on  Newman's  resignation  of  the 
Irish    Rectorship,  445,  ei  seq.  ;   also 
referred   to,    324  «.,  338,   370,  372, 
379,  380.     ii.  408.     See  also  Letters 
Leo  Xn.,  i.  175,  365,  460,  635 
Leo  XIII.,  allowed  Catholics  to  go  to 
Oxford,  ii.    71  ;    his   election,  432  ; 
and     Newman's    Cardinalate,    435, 
436  ;  tolerance  of,  500  ;  character  of 
utterances  of,  501  ;  Newman  writes  to 
him  on  his  Encyclical  on  the  Philo- 
sophy  of    St.    Thomas,     501  ;    his 
jubilee,    529  ;    protests   against    the 
erection  of    a   statue   to     Giordano 
Bruno,  533  ;  referred  to,  371  n.    See 
also  Letters 
'  Letter  to  the  Duke  of  Norfolk,'  its 
spirit  and  purport,  ii.  403-406  ;    its 
reception,   405-406  ;     W.   G.   Ward 
and,  406-407  ;  Dr.  Neville,  of  May- 
nooth,  and,  407-409  ;  Newman's  let- 
ters on,  559-566.    Quoted,  i.  404;?.  ; 
referred  to,   12.      ii.    82,    85-86  «., 
107,  232,  308,  401,  425,  432,  497 
*  Letter  to  Dr.  Pusey,  The,'  analysed, ii. 
101-109  ;  publication  and  reception, 
108    109  ;    reviewed   in    the    Times, 
109-1 1 2  ;  its  reception  among  Catho- 
lics, 112-I13,   121,   122,   123  ;    con- 
ditions under  which  it  was   written, 
125  ;  treats  of  the  doctrine  of  the  Im- 
maculate Conception,  376.     Quoted, 
i.  205,  214  n.  ;  referred  to,  204  «., 
232.       ii.   i89«.,   399,421,    434«- 
See  also  '  Eirenicon  ' 
Letters  and  extracts  from  letters  : 
I.  Letters  cf  Cardinal  Ne-wman  to 
Acton,  Lord,  i.  479,  482,  506,  511, 
518,  523,  524,  527,  532,  634,  635, 
636,  639 
Alley ne,  Rev.  A.  V.,  ii.  315 
Arnold,  Mr.  A.,  ii.  55S,  560 
Arnold,  Mr.  T.,  i.  543 
Bathurst,  Miss,  ii.  326 


Bedford,  Mr.  H.,  ii.  512,  564 
Bellasis,  Serjeant  E.,  i.    453,    454, 

456,  594.  595-     ii-  262 
Bittleston,  Rev.  H.,  i.  647.      ii.  84, 

85,  457 
Blachford,      Lord     (Mr.     Frederick 
Rogers),  i.  68,  70,  439.     ii.    19, 

23,  74.  75.  90,  374.  381,  382, 
383,  384,  388,  389,  390,  402,  405, 
407,  410,  413,  433.  509,  510,  570 

Bloxam,  Mr.  J.  R.,  ii.  285  «. 

Bowden,  Miss  Charlotte,  ii.  318 

Bowles,  Miss  E.,  i.  586,  589,  612. 
ii.  68,  69,  124,  125,  126,  127,  128, 
446,  477,  478,  519,  524,  554,  555 

Bowles,  Mr.  Frederick,  i.   103,   135 

Bowyer,  Sir  G.,  i.  256 

Braye,  Lord,  ii.  485,  486 

Brown,  Bishop,  ii.  581 

Brown,  Principal,  ii.  393,  395 

Brownlow,  Bishop,  i.  652.  ii.  269, 
276,  283 

Capes,  Mr.  F.  M.,  i.  215,  226,  244, 
245,  246,  248,  249,  250,  259,  260, 
262,  2S7,  301  «.,  373.  440,  441. 
442 

Church,  Miss  Helen  (Mrs.  Paget),  li. 

318,  319 
Church,  Miss  Mary,  ii.  319 
Church,  R.  W.  (Dean),  ii.  19,  21,  24, 

74,75,  119,  120,  333»-.383.  385. 

386,  389,  391,  392,  403.  418,  426, 

427,  451,  487,  513,  515,  520,  524, 

526,  529 
Coleridge,  Rev.,  S.J.,    ii.   77,    Ii4> 

141,  186,  205,  268,  269,  282,  294, 

314,  347.  577 
Cope,  SirW.,  ii.  45,  556 
Copeland,   Mr.  W.  J.,  i.    117,   597, 

598,  599.  613-     ii-  130 
Cullen,  Cardinal,  i.  326 
Cullen,  Mr.  A.  II.,  ii.  416 
Dalgairns,  Rev.  J.  D.,  i.   107,   109, 

no,  124,  125,  126,  143,  148,  160, 

166,  168,  169,  171,  172,  176,  178, 

182 
Daunt,  Mr.  O'Neill,  ii.  299,  310 
Deane,  Miss  E.,  ii.  527 
Deane,  Mrs.,  ii.  323 
de  Lisle,  Mr.  Ambrose  Phillipps,  ii. 

82,   115,  292,  559 
Denbigh,  Earl  of,  i.  256 
de  Vere,  Mr.  Aulncy,  ii.  245.  273 
Drane,  Mother  Francis   Raphael,  ii. 

344 
Edwards,   Mr.    G.  T.,  u.  333,  526, 

535  ..     ^ 

Estcourt,  Canon,  11.  56 
Falier,  Rev.    P^ederick    Wilfrid,    i. 

211,  217,   219,  220,  224,  227,  228, 

229,  231 


6o6 


LIFE   OF   CARDINAL   NEWMAN 


Foltrell,  Mr.,  ii.  397 
Fourdrinier,  Miss  E.,  ii.  484 
Froude,  Miss  Isy  (Baroness  Anatole 

von  Hugel),i.   602,  606,  60S,  609. 

ii.  317,  562,  563 
Froude,  Ivichard  Hurrell,  i.  46,  47 
Froude,  William,    i.   294,  602,  612, 

647,  649.     ii.  207,  586 
Froude,    Mrs.  W.,  i.   86,   115,   116, 

239,  242,  312,  336,  622,  646,  649. 

ii.  90,  96,  284,  308,  376,  379.  380, 

560,  561,  569,  572 
Gabriel,  Sister  Mary,   ii.   325,  388, 

414 
Gaisford,  Mr.,  ii.  54,  66 
Gerard.  Rev.  J.,  ii.  452 
Giberne,  Miss  Maria  Rosina  (after- 
wards   Sister  Maria  Pia),  i.    112. 

ii.    53,  281,  308,  341,  412,   414, 

4I5>  430,  468,  4S3.  516,  520,  521, 

523.  553>  570 
G/o6t',  i.  580 

Gordon,  Rev.  Philip,  i.  204 
Hallahan,  Mother  Margaret,  i.  289, 

293.     ii.  30 
Harper,  Rev.  Father,  i.  593 
HerlDert,  Lady,  ii.  477 
Hewit,  Rev.  Mr.,  ii.  505  ;/.,  535 
Holmes,  Miss,  i.  428,  601,  603,605, 

606,  607,  608,  610,  612.     ii.   70, 

268,  275,  313,  326, 328,  329,  379, 

412,  552 
Hope,  Miss,  ii.  528 
Hope-Scott,    Mr.   James   Robert,   i, 

105  «.,  278,  284,  287,  451,  615. 

ii.  13,  25,  43,  51,59,  65,  70,  137, 

152,  182,  1S8,  190,  195,  197,267, 

323.  552 
Hopkins,  Rev.  Father,  ii.  527 
Howard,  Cardinal,  ii.  448 
HUgel,  Baron  von,  ii.  417,  504  n. 
Hutton,  Mr.   R.    H.,  ii.  6,  12,  204, 

332,  334,  335,  522,  523 
Hyacinthe,  Pere,  ii.  375 
Irish  Bishops,  i.  630,  631,  632,  633 
Jenkins,  Canon,  ii.   198,  284,    322, 

574,  576 
Jesuits,  at  Farm  Street,  ii.  321 
Jones,  Father,  ii.    560 
Keble,  Mr.  J.,  i.   590.     ii.   22,  92, 

93,  94 
Kenrick,  Archbishop,  i.  303,  427 

Leo  XHL,  Pope,  ii.  501 

Lewis,  Mr.  David,  i.  145,  183 

MacCoU,  Canon  Malcolm,  ii.  322, 331 

McHale,  Dr.,  Archbishop  of  Tuam, 

i.  360  n. 
McMuUen,  Canon  R.,  ii.  516,  560 
Manning,  Cardinal,  i.  319,  363,  374, 

525.     ii.  88,  97,  447,  448 
Maskell,  Mrs.,  ii.  415,  416 


Meynell,   Dr.   Charles,  ii.  243,  256, 

257,  258,  259,  260,  261 
Mills,  Rev.  Austin,  i.  339 
Moriarty,  Dr.,  Bishop  of  Kerry,   i. 

378.     ii.  289 
Mozley,  Mr.  J.  R.,  ii.  479,  517,  518, 

572 
Mozley,  Mrs.  Jolin,  i.  41,  70,  76 
Mozley,  Mrs.  Thomas,  i.  41,  52 
Monro,  Miss,  ii.  327 
Neville,  Father  William,  i.  579 
Nevins,  Mr.  Willis,  ii.  556 
Newman,  Mrs.,  i.  32,  33,  44,  45,  50, 

51 
Newsham,  Dr.,  i.  316  «. 
Nina,  Cardinal,  ii.  583 
Noble,  Dr.,  ii.  416 
Norfolk,  Duke  of,  ii.  443 
Northcote,   Dr.  J.  S.,   i.    121,    302. 

ii.  311,  569,  574 
O'Hagan,  John,  ii.  456 
Ornsby,   Robert,  i.    367,   370,  379, 

446,447,448,449,581,628.     ii. 

49,  87,  554 
Patterson,  James  Laird,  ii.  134 
Pattison,    Mr.   Mark,   ii.  481,    482, 

483 
Penny,  Mr.  William  Goodenough,  i. 

140 
Percival,  Dr.,  ii.  525 
Perrone,  Fr. ,  i.  184  «. 
Pollen,  Mr.  John,  i.   348,  604,  605, 

643.     ii.  68,  524 
Poole,  Sister  Imelda,    i.    286,    288, 

289,  290,  293,  294,  295,  296,  297, 

301.      ii.    29,   61,   67,    113,  266, 

411,414 
Pusey,  Dr.,  ii.    100,   loi,   102,   113, 

217,  220,  223 
Renouf,  Mr.  Le  Page,  ii.  236 
Rogers,  Sir  Frederick,  see  Blachford, 

Lord 
Rossi,  Rev.  C,  ii.  585 
Russell,  Dr. ,  ii.  42,  86 
Ryder,  Mr.  George,  i.  128 
St.    John,   Father  Ambrose,    i.    86, 

103,  104,  105,  114,  123,  126,  131, 

202,  220,  317,  336,  337,  341,  360, 

370,  371,  374  ''•,  376,  437,  545. 
607,  609,  610,  611,  651.     ii.  50, 
60,  71,  80,95,  123,  130,  149,  154, 
i55>  169,  253,  320,  345,  540 
Sconce,  Mrs.,  ii.  313 
Sheil,  Sir  Justin,  ii.  135 
Simeon,  Lady,  ii.  192 
Simeon,  Sir  John,  ii.  29c,  291 
Simpson,  R.,  i.  4S7,  488,  505,  535, 

635 
Smith,  Mr.  Albert,  i.  570,  654 
Spurrier,  Rev.  A.,  ii.  526 
Stajidard,  The,  ii.  290 


INDEX 


607 


Sullivan,  Professor  W.  K. ,  i.  430, 

432 
Talbot,  Mgr.,  ii.  176,  539 
Taylor,  Dr.,  i.  375 
Telford,  Rev.  J.,  ii.  78 
Thompson,  Mr.  Healy,  i.  496 
Ullathorne,  Dr.,  Bishop  of  Birming- 
ham, i.   492,    544,   554.     ii.    184, 
287,  426,  439 
Vaughan,  Rev.  E.  T.,   ii.  346 
Walford,  Rev.  J.,   ii.    266,  346,  412, 

444,  553 
Walker,  Canon,  ii.    43,  44,  62,  228, 

230,  240,  283 

Wallis,  Mr.  John,  i.  498,  628.   ii.  229 

Ward,  Mr.  F.  R.,  ii.  544 

Ward,     Mrs.     F.     R.,    i.     644.     ii. 

283 
Ward,  Mr.  W.  G.,  i.  134,  283,  295, 

490,  491,  515,  537,  547,  548,  552, 

554,  555,  556,  557,  637-     i'-  224, 

231,  232,  273,  325 

Ward,  Mr.  Wilfrid,  ii,  488,  529 
Wayte,  Dr.  S.  W.,  ii.  428,  452 
Wetherell,  T.  F.,  i.  540.     ii.  55 
Whitty,     Rev.      Robert,      ii.      295, 

451 
Wilberforce,  H.,  i.  17  ;/.,  80,  82,  92, 
93,  III,  116,  117,  128,  131  «.,I3S, 
150,  187,  188,  192,  197,  235,  236, 
237,  238,  302, 344,  371,  372,  499. 
573,  616,  618,  619,  621,  624.  ii. 
44,  61,  104;?.,  140,  205,  207,233, 
248,  252,  254,267,  316,  320,  321, 

339,  340,  341 
Williams,  Mr.  Isaac,  i.  650 
Wilson,  Mrs.,  ii.  566 

Wiseman,  Cardinal,    i.    123  «.,  213, 

331,  419,  615.     ii.  171  u. 
Wood,  Mrs.,  i.  257 
To  other  friends,    i.    30,  32,  33,  34, 

35,  36,  37,  39,  40,  53,  54,  55,  75, 
201,  208,  209,  222,  223,  229,  233, 
327,  346,  347,  349,  350,  351,  364, 
559-  ii-  59,  87,  97,  9^,  200,  203, 
275,  301,  315,  324,  325-  329,  338, 

340,  347,  393  «• ,  457,  467,  472  n., 
545,  568,  586 

II.   Letters  to  Newman  from 

Acton,  Sir  John,  i.   508,  522,  527, 

529,  538,  539,  634 
Bittlcston,  Rev.  Henry,  ii.  158,  165, 

172,  173 
Blachford,  Lord,  ii.  579,  584 
Bute,  Marquess  of,  ii.  579 
Church,  R.  W.  (Dean),  ii.  583 
Clifford,  Bishop,  ii.  5S4 
Coleridge,  Lord,  ii.  579 
de  Vera,  Mr.  Aubrey,  ii.  5S1 


Dollingcr,  Dr.,  i.  444,  493 
Frrington,  Archbishop,  ii.  580 
Gillies,  Dr.,  i.  156 
Hedley,  Bishop,  ii.  5S0 
Howard,  Cardinal,  ii.  448 
Kingsley,  Rev.  Charles,  ii,  I 
Leahy,  Dr.,  i.  379  n. 
Manning,   Cardinal,    i.   319,   332  «,, 

525.     ii.  88,  89,  449,  450,  534 
Nina,  Cardinal,  ii.  583 
Oakeley,  Canon,  ii.  578 
Ornsby,  Robert,  i.  447 
Patterson,  James  Laird,  ii.  133 
Pattison,  Mr.  Mark,  ii.  481 
Portal,  Mr.  Melville,  i.  617 
Ripon,  Marquess  of,  ii.  580 
Rossi,  Rev.  C,  ii.  585 
St,    John,  Father  Ambrose,  ii,  160, 

163,  166,  17s,  178,  546,  548 
Shrewsbury,  Earl  of,  i.  353  11. 
Simpson,  Mr.  Richard,  i,  508,  633 
Stanton,  Rev,  R, ,  i,  332 
Talbot,  Mgr.,  ii.  177,  539 
Ullathorne,     Bishop,    i.    212,    331, 

332  «.,  545,  555.     ii.  132. 
Wallis,  Mr.  John,  i.  633 
Ward,  Mr.  W.  G.,  i.  420,  489,  547, 

556 
Wetherell,  Mr.  T.  F.,  i.  517 
Wiseman,  Cardinal,  i.  330 

Other  Letters  from 

Acton,  Sir  John,  to  Richard  Simpson, 

i.  481 
Bellasis,  Mr.   Henry,  to  his  mother, 

ii.  469 
Bishops,  the  '  inopportunist,'  to  Pope 

Pius  IX.,  ii.  303 
Bowles,  Mr.  F.,   to  Rev.  Ambrose 

St.  John,  i.  125 
Dominic,   Fr.,   to  the   Tablet,  i.  94, 

95«.,  105 
Gaisford,    Mr.,    to    the    Bishop    of 

Southwark,  ii.  542 
Holland,   Canon,   to  Mrs.   Ady,   ii. 

Irish   Bishops  to  the   Oratorians,   i, 

629 
Manning,  Cardinal,  to  Mgr.  Talbot, 

ii.    145,    148  ;    to   Cardinal  Xina, 

ii-  577 
Norfolk,  Duke  of,  to  Mr.  W.  Ward, 

ii.  436 
O'Ferrall,  Mr.   More,  to  a  friend,  i. 

361 
Pollen,  Mr.  J.,  to  Mr.  W.  Ward,  i, 

354 
Pope,    Rev,    T.     A.,    to   a    friend, 
ii.  467 ;  to  Rev.   Ignatius  Ryder, 
ii,  462 


6o8 


LIFE   OF   CARDINAL   NEWMAN 


St.    John,     Rev.     A.,    to    Rev.    B. 

Dalgairns,     i.      120,     125,     137, 

146,    148,    153,    154,     174.     181, 

182 
Sibour,    Archbishop,    to   the  Comte 

de  Montalembert,  ii.  209 
Smith,  Canon  Bernard,  to  Mr.  W. 

Ward,  i.  96 
Talbot,  Mgr.,  to  Cardinal  Manning, 

ii.  146 
Ullathorne,     Bishop,     to     Cardinal 

Manning,    ii.   440,   442,   446 ;    to 

Cardinal  Nina,  ii.  582 
Wagner,  Rev.  Mr.  (of  Brighton),  to 

a  friend,  ii.  463 
Wiseman,   Cardinal,  to  Dr.  CuUen, 

i.    328  ;    to    Dr.    Russell,    i.    98, 

99 

Lewin,  Mr.,  i.  281,  283 

Lewis,  David,  i.  84,  113,  115,  124, 
126.     ii.  196.     See  also  Letters 

Lewis,  Sir  G.  Cornewall,  ii,  44 

Liberal  Catholicism  :  dangerous  sym- 
ptoms of,  on  the  Continent,  i.  306  ; 
its  different  forms,  458,  460  ;  origin 
and  progress  of  the  movement,  460, 
et  seq.  ;  Lacordaire's  theory  of  Ultra- 
montane Liberalism,  461  ;  oppo- 
sition of  Pius  IX.  to,  462  ;  anti- 
Christian  trend  of,  on  the  Con- 
tinent, 463,  et  seq.  ;  Lord  Acton's 
attitude  towards,  467-469;  W.  G. 
Ward's  opposition  to,  469-471  ; 
Newman's  attitude  towards  lea'lers 
of  the  movement,  471,  477  ;  leaders 
of  the  movement  in  England,  474- 
476.  And  the  Encyclical  Quanta 
Cura,  ii.  79  ;  effect  of  Vatican 
Council  on,  371  ;  definition  of  Infal- 
libility a  check  to  the  movement, 
419,  420 

Liberalism  in  religious  thought,  New- 
man's war  against,  i.  4,  8  ;  at  Oxford, 
43,  et  seq.,  312.  ii.  486.  Catholic 
Church  an  antidote  to,  i.  413. 
Newman's  address  on,  as  Cardinal, 
ii.  459  ;  views  of  Newman  on,  460, 
461,  462.  Also  referred  to,  i.  571. 
ii.  209,  214 

Liberatore,  Fr.,  S.J.,  ii.  197 

♦  Library  of  the  Fathers,  The,'  i.  57 

Liddon,  II.  P.  (Canon),  his  intluence 
withdrawn  from  Oxford,  ii.  486. 
See  also  384 

Lightfoot,  J.  B.  (Bishop  of  Durham), 
i.  469 

Lilly,  Mr.  W.  S.,  ii.  487 

Lingard,  Dr.,  i.  635 

Literature,  Newman's  desire  to  create  a 
Catholic,  i.  315;  and  I  he  Church, 
410,  411 


Littledale,  Dr.  :  Newman  protests 
against  '  Plain  Reasons,'  ii.  487 

Littlemore,  i.  71,  74,  76,  79,  et  seq., 
85,  115,  116,  121,  137,  150,  193, 
203,  217,   338,   618.     ii.   205,   338, 

349.  431 

'  Lives  of  the  Saints,'  edited  by  Father 
Faber,  i.  171,  206,  et  seq.  ii.  8,  et 
seq.,  420 

Llandaff,  Viscount  (Mr.  Henry  Mat- 
thews), i.  280-28 1 

Locke,  i.  34,  269 

Lockhart,  Rev.  W.  :  his  hopes  for  Re- 
union, ii.  99 ;  his  sympathy  with 
the  *  Eirenicon,'  ii.  102 

London  Oratory,  first  suggested,  i. 
216;  a  start  made  in  King  William 
Street,  217-218;  Newman's  atti- 
tude towards  its  beginning,  218- 
220,  221,  227-229,  341  ;  Newman 
describes  its  opening,  2  20- 221  ; 
summary  of  relations  between  Bir- 
mingham and,  223-226 ;  hymns  of, 
224-225 ;  its  great  work,  228 ; 
Newman  delivers  lectures  at  (cf. 
'Difficulties  of  Anglicans'),  230; 
account  of  its  separation  from  Bir- 
mingham, 450,  et  seq.  Honours 
Newman  as  Cardinal,  ii.  472 ; 
Newman  visits,   517.     Referred   to, 

i.  580 
London  University,  ii.  68,  195 
Longman,     Messrs.,    ii.    20,    21,    23, 

25 
Loreto,  i.  192,  193,  197,  198.     li.  342 

'  Loss  and  Gain,'  i.  117,  191,  260.    ii. 

328,  336,  559,  591  . 
Louvain   University,  i.   251,  276,  35 1, 

355,    364,    628-629.      ii.     50,    64, 

502 
Lucas,    Frederick,    i.    335,   337,   381, 

484,  633 
Luther,  i.  623,  625 
Lyell,  Sir  C,  on  Newman,  ii.  34 
Lyons,  Dr.,  i.  350,  359,  629 
♦  Lyra  Apostolica,'  i.  52,  56,  224,  225. 

ii.  320,  356 


Macaulay,  Lord,  i.  142 

Maccabe,     Cardinal     (Archbishop     of 

Dublin),  i.  324 
McCarthy,     Mr.     Florence^  Denis,    i. 

359«-.'379 
MacColl,  Canon,  see  Letters 
McGettigan,     Daniel    (Archbishop   of 

Armagh),  ii.  464 
McHale,  John  (Archbishop  of  Tuam), 

i.  322,  325,  326,  338,  360,  366,  370, 

37I;  375-  379 «•,  381,  430-     ii-  i93- 
See  also  Letters 


INDEX 


6og 


Mcintosh,  Dr.  (of  Queen's  College, 
Belfast),  i.  308 

Macmrllan's  Magazine,  ii.  I 

Macmullen,  Canon  R.  G.,  i.  108  «.  ii. 
516.     See  also  Letters 

Maguire,  Dr.,  i.  253,  419 

Malachi,  St.,  Prophecies  of,  concern- 
ing modern  Popes,  ii.  371 

Mallock,  Mr.  W.  H.,  ii.   572 

Malta,  Proposed  Oratory  at,  i.  182 ; 
idea  abandoned,  184.  Oratory  at, 
offered  to  Newman  by  Pius  IX.,  ii. 
218.  Also  referred  to,  i.  52,  279  n. 
ii.  119 

Manning,  Henry  Edward  (Cardinal 
Archbishop):  his  opposition  to  'mixed ' 
education  and  Oxford  scheme,  i.  12- 
13  ;  a  representative  of  the  '  New 
Ultramontane'  party,  13,  19,  24;  his 
visit  to  Rome  in  1847,  191,  193;  and 
the  Gorham  case,  230  ;  received  into 
the  Catholic  Church,  264 ;  invited 
by  Newman  to  be  Vice-Rector 
of  the  Catholic  University,  319  ;  on 
Newman's  difficulties  in  Dublin, 
363  ;  consulted  by  Newman  on  new 
English  version  of  the  Scriptures, 
419  ;  leads  crusade  on  behalf  of  Tem- 
poral Power,  521,  et  seq.  ;  suggests 
that  Acton  should  dissociate  himself 
from  the  Rambler,  523,  et  seq.  ;  helps 
to  found  the  Academia,  524,  525  ;  and 
the  Rambler,  534,  et  seq.  ;  transfers 
the  Dublin  Review  to  W.  G. 
Ward,  546.  Opposed  to  an  Oxford 
Catholic  College  and  Oratory,  in 
1864,  ii.  54,  60,  64-65,  67-68,  73, 
79,  542;  denounces  the  A.  P.  U.C., 
81-82,  91;  made  Archbishop,  87; 
desires  to  obtain  a  bishopric  for  New- 
man, 88-89 ;  Newman  attends  his 
consecration,  89-90,  161  ;  his  reply 
to  Pusey's  '  Eirenicon,'  no-112  ;  and 
the  Oxford  question  in  1867,  122- 
123,  135,  182,  200-203,  543-544. 
547-548;  Newman's  opinion  of 
Manning's  attitude  towards  himself, 
125;  his  criticism  on  the  address  of 
the  English  Catholic  laity  to  New- 
man in  1867,  144-146;  supports 
Ward's  view  of  Infallibility,  15 1  ; 
anxious  for  a  rapprochement  with 
Newman,  181,  182;  and  the  Oratory 
School,  191  ;  and  the  attempt  to 
start  a  Catholic  University,  195-199; 
his  vow  to  promote  definition  of 
Papal  Infallibility,  210;  issues  pas- 
torals in  favour  of  Infallibility  which 
are  attacked  by  Dupanloup,  283,  286; 
a     member     of     the     Metaphysical 

VOL.  II. 


Society,  332,  333  n.  ;  his  '  Cjesarism 
and  Ultramontanism,' 401-402  ;  and 
Newman's  Cardinalate,  435,  438, 
440-443,  446,  et  seq.,  582  ;  his  arbi- 
tration in  the  dock  strikes,  533,  534. 
Also  referred  to,  i.  260,  311,  317, 
329,  332  «.,  357,  373,  386,  494, 
537  "■,  551.  566,  616,  654.  ii.  36, 
97,  loi,  102,  108,  109,  121,  124, 
127,  128,  152,  155-156,  158,  164, 
165,  170,  176,  179,  487,  517,  555, 
560,  561,  574,  575.  See  also 
Letters 
Manzoni,  Alessandro,  i.   142,  143.     ii. 

23 
Marriott,  Charles,  i.  94.     ii.  377,  513, 

571 
Marshall,  Rev.  Henry,  i.  108,  182 
Marshall,    Thomas   William,    i.     130. 

ii.  199 
Mai  tin,  Mr.  (correspondent  of  the 
Weekly  Register),  his  Roman  letter  to 
Weekly  Register,  April  6,  1867, 
140 ;  its  text,  543,  544 ;  also  re- 
ferred to,   151,   175,   187,   188,  192, 

547 

Marlineau,  James,  ii.  4,  395 

Maryvale  (Old  Oscott),  the  first  house 
of  the  Oxford  converts,  i.  109,  et 
seq.;  its  history,  119;  Oxford  con- 
verts' life  at,  120-121,  122-126; 
beginnings  of  the  Oratory  at,  197, 
et  seq.;  Newman  leaves,  214;  also 
referred  to,  105,  150,  154,  157, 
166-167,  172,  177,  190,  192,  202. 
ii.  451 

Maskell,  Mrs.,  ii.  415-416.  See  also 
Letters 

Maurice,  Frederick  Denison,  i.  312, 
421.     ii.  4 

Maximilian,  Emperor  of  Mexico,  ii. 
118,  120 

Mayence,  Theological  School  of,  i.  465, 
466  n. 

Mayer,  Rev.  Walter,  i.  30.     ii.  512 

Maynooth.  i.  334,  335,  6i5.  ii.  407, 
408,  561 

Mazio,  Padre,  i.  147,  168.     ii.  270 

Mazzini.  Giuseppe,  i.  193,  195,  470 

'  Meditations  and  Devotions,'  extracts 
from  Newman's,  ii.  364-368 

Mediterranean,  Voyage  of  Newman  in 
the,  i.  51,  52 

Melbourne,  Lord,  i.  312.     ii.  53 

Mellerio,  Count,  i.  142,  145 

Mendelssohn,  ii.  350-351 

Mercier,  Cardinal,  and  the  scholastic  re- 
vival, i.  463.  Founds  the  Institut  de 
St.  Thomas  at  Louvain  University, 
ii.  502 

R  R 


6io 


LIFE   OF  CARDINAL   NEWMAN 


Metaphysical  Society,  The,  ii.  332,  et 
seq. 

Meynell,  Dr.  Charles,  ii.  243.  See  also 
Letters 

Milan,  Newman's  visit  to,  and  impres- 
sion of,  i.  135-146 

Mill,  J.  S.,  i.  II,  169  «.,  308,  417.  ii, 
44.  48,  197,494 

Millais,  Sir  J.  E.,  paints  Newman's 
picture,  ii.  516 

Mills,  Fr.  Austin,  i.  339.  ii.  41,  458, 
540.      See  also  Letters 

Milman,  Henry  Hart  (Dean),  ii.  44 

Milner,  John  (Vicar  Apostolic  of  Mid- 
land District),  i.  119,  120.  ii.  107, 
148 

Milner,  Joseph,  his  Church  History,  i. 
42 

Milton,  ii.  44,  319 

'  Miracles,  Essay  on,'  dedication  of,  ii. 
383  ;  referred  to,  396  n. 

Miracles,  Newman's  philosophy  of,  ii. 

9,  342-343.  494 

Mohler,  Johann  Adam  (author  of 
the,  Symbolik'),  i.  308,  315,  461, 
46s 

Monde,  The,  and  the  Encyclical 
Quanta  Cura,  ii.  80 

Monica,  St.,  i.  139 

Monk,  Maria,  i.  273 

Monophysites,  i.  67,  237,  616 

Monothelite  heresy,  ii.  214 

Monsell,  The  Right  Hon.  William,  see 
Emly,  Lord 

Montalembert,  Comte  de,  and  Liberal 
Catholicism,  i.  10,  459-461  ;  New- 
man's sympathy  with,  19,  315,  388, 
471  ;  his  Ultramontanisni,  461  ;  also 
referred  to,  i.  397,  465,  474,  495,  550, 
636.  ii.  80,  83,  209,  211.  See  also 
Letters 

Monte  Cassino,  Newman  visits,  i. 
188 

Monteith,  Robert,  i.  521.     ii.  52 

Month,  The,  ii.  99,  114,  115,  205,  347, 

425 
Moran,  Cardinal  (sometime  Bishop  of 

Ossory),  ii.  464  n. 
Moriarty,    Dr.   (Bishop   of  Kerry),    i. 

216,    311,317,320,  341,  347,  350, 

354,   361    «.,    366,   372,    374,   378, 

382,    628.     ii.    289,  401.     See   also 

Letters 
Morley,  Viscount,   of  Blackburn,   i.  2, 

405.     ii.  402 
Morris,  John  Brande,  i.  84,  iii,   113, 

120,  603 
Morris,  William,  ii.  355 
Mostyn,   Bishop    (Vicar   Apostolic    of 

Northern  District),  i.  iii 
Moylan,  Dean,  i.  317 


Mozart,  ii.  350 

Mozley,  Miss  Ann,  i.  29.     ii.  513 

Mozley,  James  Bowling,    ii.  387,  513, 

570,  571 
Mozley,  Mrs.  J.  B.,  ii.  387,  388 
Mozley,  J.  R.,  ii.    517,    519.     See  also 

Letters 
Mozley,  Mrs.  John  (Jemima  Newman), 

i.    41,    70,    85,  618.     ii.   479.     See 

also  Letters 
Mozley,    Thomas,    i.    27  «.,     50.     ii. 

303,  513 

Mozley,  Mrs.  Thomas  (Harriet  New- 
man), i.  28,  41,  51.  ii.  339.  See 
also  Letters 

Miiller,  Max,  i.  539 

Munich,  i.  192 

Munich  Brief,  The,  a  censure  of 
Dollinger's  address  at  the  Munich 
Congress,  i.  564,  et  seq.  ;  effect  of,  on 
Newman  and  on  the  intellectual 
movement  among  German  Catholics, 
585.  ii.  48.  Newman's  analysis 
of,  i.  640,  et  seq. 

Munich  Congress,  The,  i.  469,  562, 
et  seq.     ii.  372,  et  seq. 

Munich  School,  The,  W.  G.  Ward's 
antipathy  to,  i.  47  ;  aims  of,  459, 
et  seq.  ;  meets  with  opposition,  465  ; 
its  theological  differences  with  School 
of  Mayence,  465  n.  ;  the  Rambler 
adopts  its  general  policy,  474,  495  ; 
its  orthodoxy  suspected,  564 

Munro,  Miss,  see  Letters 

Murray,  Dr.,  Archbishop  of  Dublin,  i. 
275.  305.  3".  et  seq.,  334,  366 

Murray,   Dr.,    of  Maynooth,    ii.    152, 

153 


Naples  :  Newman's  impressions  of,  i. 

188-190 ;     also     referred      to,     52, 

279  n.,  280,  283 
Napoleon  I.,  i.  313,  651 
Napoleon    HI.,     i.      519.       ii.     209, 

554 

Nardi,  Mgr.,  ii.  163,  164,  174  ;  his  visit 
to  Newman,  188,  et  seq. 

Natio7i,  The  (Irish),  i.  362 

Neve,  Mgr.  (Rector  of  English  Col- 
lege), ii.   149,    158,   163,    164,   165, 

170,  I73>  538 

Neville,  Dr.  (of  Maynooth),  ii.  407- 
409 

Neville,  Fr.  William  Paine,  New- 
man's literary  executor,  i.  I  ;  re- 
ceived into  the  Catholic  Church, 
264.  Constant  companion  of  New- 
man, ii.  432  ;  goes  to  Rome  with 
Newman,  457.  Quoted,  i.  149,315, 
345.  348,  385.  393,  425,  451.      "• 


INDEX 


6ii 


351-353.  359-364,  439.  458-462, 
468,  470-471,  473.  475-476,  481, 
512,  513.  515.  530,  532,  533.  534. 
536,  537.     Also  referred  to,  i.  27  «., 

29«.,  147,  193,  194.  354,  579,  648, 
651.     ii.  41,53,  107.  130,  138,  190, 
410,   411,  453,    464  n.,    465,    540. 
See  also  Letters 
Nevins,  Willis,  see  Letters 
New  Inn  Hall  (Oxford),  i.  646 
Newman,  Charles,  ii.  317,  339 
Newman,  P'rancis  William,  i.  123,625. 

ii-  349 

Newman,   Harriet,    see   Mrs.    Thomas 
Mozley 

Newman,     Jemima,     see     Mrs.    John 
Mozley 

Newman,  Mr.  John,  i.  27  n. 

Newman,  Mrs.,  see  Letters 

Newman,  Rev.  John  Henry  (afterwards 
Cardinal),  birth  and  parentage,  i.  27  ; 
childhood,  28  ;  boyhood  and  school- 
days, 29  ;  his  early  sense  of  the  pre- 
sence of  God  in  conscience,  30 ; 
avows  a  tendency  towards  intellectual 
scepticism,  31  ;  goes  up  to  Oxford, 
32  ;  Bowden's  friendship,  33  ;  Gib- 
bon's influence  on  his  style,  34 ; 
graduates,  34 ;  elected  Fellow  of 
Oriel  College,  Oxford,  34  ;  influence 
on  him  of  the  Oriel  Noetics,  34-36  ; 
influence  of  Whately,  37,  et  sec].  ; 
early  friendship  with  Blanco  White, 
38,  et  seq.  ;  takes  orders  :  his  first 
curacy,  38  ;  appointed  Vicar  of  St. 
Mary's,  40  ;  the  death  of  his  sister 
Mary,  40,  41  ;  reaction  against 
Liberalism  and  inlellectualism,  4, 
ei  seq.,  41  ;  influenceof  the  Fathers, 
41  ;  differences  with  the  Provost  on 
the  subject  of  the  Oriel  tutorship, 
42-43  ;  '  The  Arians  of  the  Fourth 
Century,'  46-50,  80,  296,  444,  637  ; 
Mediterranean  voyage,  50  ;  he  writes 
'St.  Athanasius'  and  other  poems, 
51-62  ;  '  Lyra  Apostolica,'  52,  55, 
et  seq.  ;  visit  to  Rome,  impressions 
of  the  city,  53-54  ;  illness  in  Sicily, 
54  ;  '  Lead,  kindly  Light,'  55  ;  the 
danger  of  English  Disestablishment, 
56  ;  beginning  of  the  Oxford  Move- 
ment, Keble's  sermon  on  National 
Apostasy,  56  ; '  Tracts  for  the  Times,' 
5,  et  seq.,  56,  et  seq.  ;  defence  of 
Anglican  Church  against  Erastianism, 
4,  et  seq.,  56,  et  seq.  ;  edits  the 
'  Library  of  the  Fathers,'  57,  and  the 
British  Critic,  57,  70  ;  censures  the 
appointment  of  Dr.  Hampden,  57  ; 
'  Sermons  preached  before  the  Uni- 
versity  of  Oxford,'   on    the    Philo- 


sophy of  Faith,  58-59  ;  '  Lectures  on 
the  Prophetical  Office,'  59;  '  Paro- 
chial Sermons,'  60  ;  intellectual  repu- 
tation, credo  in  New m annum,  60, 
et  seq.  ;  compared  by  J.  A.  Froude  to 
Julius  Ca:sar,  61  ;  personal  charm  and 
power  over  Oxford  disciples,  61-66  ; 
description  of,  by  Aubrey  de  Vere, 
66 ;  his  doubts  of  Anglicanism,  67, 
et  seq.  ;  affected  by  Wiseman's 
'  Schism  of  the  Donatists,'  67,  et  seq.  ; 
Romanising  influence  of  W.  G.  Ward 
and  the  new  disciples,  67,  et  seq.  ; 
*  Sermons  on  Subjects  of  the  Day,' 
70  ;  Gladstone's  '  Church  and  State,' 
70  ;  the  Roman  tendency  brought  a 
change  in  the  character  of  the  Oxford 
Movement,  4,  71 ;  Tract  90,  p.  ']\,et 
seq.  ;  its  censure  by  the  Hebdomadal 
Board,  72,  et  seq.  ;  the  Bishopric 
of  Jerusalem,  74 ;  Newman  leaves 
Oxford  and  retires  to  Littlemore, 
75 ;  his  parish  of  Littlemore,  71, 
74-78 ;  Roman  convictions,  76 ; 
resigns  vicarage  of  St.  Mary's,  76  ; 
retracts  former  criticisms  of  Rome, 
76 ;  sermon  on  the  '  Parting  of 
Friends,'  76  ;  edits  the  '  Lives  ot 
the  English  Saints,'  77-78;  closing 
scenes  of  the  Oxford  Movement,  79, 
et  seq.  ;  Ward's  '  Ideal  of  a  Chris- 
tian Church,'  79  ;  Blanco  White's 
autobiography,  its  effect  on  New- 
man, 80-82  ;  the  death-bed  of  his 
Anglican  life,  6,  82,  et  seq.  ;  writes  the 
'  Essay  on  the  Development  of  Chris- 
tian Doctrine  {q-v),  2,S^,Sb,et  seq., 
615-617  ;  a  visit  to  Littlemore 
from  Mr.  Bernard  Smith,  83  ;  many 
of  his  friends  received  into  the 
Catholic  Church,  84 ;  life  at  Little- 
more, 84-85  ;  resigns  Oriel  Fellow- 
ship, 92  ;  final  steps  towards  Rome, 
92,  et  seq.  ;  his  reception  into  the 
Catholic  Church  by  Father  Dominic, 
94,  et  seq.  ;  subsequent  meeting 
with  Dr.  Wiseman,  96  ;  Old  Oscott 
offered  to  Newman  and  the  converts, 
100  ;  Faber  and  others  received  into 
the  Church,  lOl  ;  intercourse  with 
old  English  Catholics,  101-102 ; 
visit  to  Catholic  Colleges,  102-103, 
109-112  ;  meets  Dr.  Griffiths,  102- 
103  ;  returns  to  Oscott,  103-105  ; 
plans  for  the  future,  105  ;  dis- 
trust of  the  converts  by  the 
old  English  Catholics,  105  ;  Fr. 
Dominic's  letter  on  Littlemore  in  the 
Tablet,  106- 108  ;  further  conversions, 
107- 109;  Pusey  and  the  converts, 
108- 1 09  ;     estrangement    from    old 

R  R  2 


6l2 


LIFE    OF   CARDINAL   NEWMAN 


friends,  compensations,  I12-I13  ; 
parts  with  Littlemore  and  accepts  Old 
Oscott,  113,  et  seq.  ;  visit  from  Pusey, 
114;  arrives  at  Maryvale,  117;  final 
parting  from  Oxford,  116-117; 
declines  to  write  his  reasons  for 
becoming  a  Catholic,  121-122  ;  visit 
from  Frank  Newman,  123  ;  sug- 
gested schemes  for  the  future,  123,  et 
seq.  ;  Maryvale  as  a  possible  training 
ground  for  Divinity  students,  124  ; 
plans  for  founding  an  English  Oratory, 
143,  144,  153,  166,  167,  169,  170, 
174,  176;  conversions  of  old  friends, 
127-128  ;  proposed  visit  to  Rome, 
128-131,  et  seq.  ;  anxiety  for  Henry 
Wilberforce's  conversion,  12(),  et  seq., 
153,  618,  et  seq.  ;  relations  with  W. 
Froude  (q.v.),  622-627,  et  passim  ; 
Pusey's  illness,  131  ;  Lord  Shrews- 
bury's guest  at  Alton  Towers,  133  ; 
journey  to  Rome,  i^^,etseq.  ;  Milan 
brings  home  to  him  the  Church  of 
the  Fathers,  1^8,  et  seq.  ;  his  opinions 
on  Grecian  and  Gothic  architecture, 
1 39- 1 41  ;  visits  from  many  old 
friends,  142  ;  Rosmini  and  his  philo- 
sophy, 143;  arrival  at  Rome,  144; 
first  impressions  of  the  Collegio  di 
Propaganda  Fide,  144,  145,  147,  153; 
first  audience  with  Pope  Pius  IX.,  i, 
148  ;  life  at  the  Collegio  di  Propa- 
ganda, 149,  et  seq.  ;  the  Saint  Isidore 
Sermon,  154-156,  170,  174;  mis- 
understandings with  some  Roman 
theologians,  156,  et  seq.  ;  the  re- 
ception of  the  '  Essay  on  Develop- 
ment' in  Scotland,  156-157;  in 
Rome,  158-175  ;  in  America,  159- 
r6i,  168;  French  translation  of'  De- 
velopment '  and  '  Oxford  University 
Sermons,'  161,  168-174  ;  Reason  and 
Faith  (q.v.),  163-165,  168,  172,  et 
passim  ;  Rosmini  and  the  need  of  a 
new  philosophy,  166  ;  Roman  philo- 
sophy— scholasticism  out  of  favour, 
166-167  ;  scheme  for  forming  an 
English  dependency  on  Propaganda, 
167,  170;  publishes  Latin  treatise 
on  St.  Athanasius,  172,  173  ; 
Oratorian  plans  for  future  outlined, 
176-177  ;  Oratorian  life,  176-179; 
the  Holy  Father  and  the  Oratorian 
plan,  180-183  ;  Roman  noviciate 
for  English  Oratorians,  180- 183  ; 
receives  the  Orders  of  Subdeaconate, 
Deaconate  and  Priesthood,  183- 
184  ;  visit  to  Oratorians  at  Naples, 
188-189  ;  and  to  the  Abbey  of 
Monte  Cassino,  188  ;  writes  '  Loss 
and  Gain,'  191 ;  end  of  noviciate,  last 


days  at  Rome,  191  ;  visit  to  Dol- 
linger,  192-193  ;  Italian  national 
movement,  193-196 ;  inauguration 
of  the  Birmingham  Oratory,  its  first 
community,  198-199;  trials  of  these 
years,  200-201  ;  numerous  recruits 
and  scheme  for  branch  houses, 
201  ;  joined  by  the  Wilfridians  of 
Cotton  Hall,  Cheadle,  202-205  5 
preaches  Lenten  sermons  in  London, 
205206  ;  Faber's  '  Lives  of  Italian 
Saints,'  206-214  ;  opposition  to  the 
'  Lives  '  from  Bishop  U  Hat  home 
and  English  Catholics,  207-214; 
leaves  Maryvale  for  St.  Wil- 
frid's, Cheadle,  214;  criticisms 
of  the  old  English  Catholics  on 
the  Oratorians'  work,  214-216; 
the  new  Oratory  in  Alcester  Street, 
Birmingham,  216;  foundation  of 
the  London  Oratory,  216-221  ; 
impetuous  eagerness  of  the  young 
Oratorians  in  London,  218-221  ; 
difficulties  in  regard  to  the  future  of 
St.  Wilfrid's,  221-222 ;  the  Ora- 
torians and  theologico  -  historical 
studies,  223 ;  differences  of  tone 
and  habit  between  tlie  two  Oratories, 
223226 ;  Oratorian  poetry,  224- 
225  ;  more  postulants,  226-227  !  the 
services  of  Newman  and  other  Ora- 
torians during  the  Bilston  cholera, 
227  ;  success  of  the  London  Orato- 
rians, 228  ;  the  '  Sermons  for  Mixed 
Congregations,'  228-230  ;  the  '  Gor- 
ham  case,'  230;  lectures  on  the 
'  Difficulties  of  Anglicans '  at  the 
King  William  Street  Oratory,  230,  et 
seq.  ;  correspondence  with  his  Angli- 
can friends,  235,  et  seq.  ;  the  High 
Church  position,  236,  237,  240 ; 
Henry  Wilberforce  and  his  wife 
received  into  the  Church,  239 ;  the 
Rambler  and  Catholic  thought  and 
expression,  243,  et  seq. ;  his  corre- 
spondence with  F.  M.  Capes,  247  ; 
an  honorary  degree  of  Doctor  of 
Divinity  conferred  on  Newman,  252  ; 
fears  concerning  Wiseman's  '  go- 
ahead  '  policy,  253  ;  the  restoration 
of  the  English  Hierarchy  and  Wise- 
man's letter  from  the  Flaminian 
Gate,  Rome,  253,  et  seq.  ;  the  letter 
of  Lord  John  Russell  to  the  Bishop  of 
Durham,  255  ;  indignation  meetings 
to  protest  against  Papal  Aggression, 
255,  ^/  seq. ;  Wiseman's  'Appeal  to  the 
English  People,'  256  ;  the  aggressive 
bigotry  of  the  English  people,  257- 
304,  et  passim  ;  Newman's  attitude 
towards  it,  258-260;  Capes's  lectures 


INDEX 


613 


against   the   '  aggression  '   agitation, 
259,  etseq.  ;  his  views  on  the  position 
of  the  Established  Church,  258-261  ; 
plans    proposed    for     meeting     the 
agitation,  262-274  ;  his  '  Lectures  on 
the    Present  Position  of  Cathohcs  in 
England,'  262,  et  seq. ;  asked  to  found 
a  CatholicUniversity  in  Ireland  ^q.v.), 
275-276  ;  Newman's  charges  against 
Dr.  Achilli,  276,  279;  Achilli  brings 
action  for  libel  against,  276,  et  seq.  ; 
Wiseman's  article  on    Achilli,  278  ; 
difficulty   of  collecting   evidence  on 
Newman's  side,  280,  et  seq.  ;  the  atti- 
tude of  Judge  Campbell,  281,  et  seq.  ; 
the  Oratory  moved  to  Hagley  Road, 
Edgbaston,  281  ;  reasons  for  a  com- 
promise in  the  Achilli  case,  284-285  ; 
'  Lectures  on  the  Scope  and  Nature 
of  University  Education,'  290  304  ; 
the   Achilli    trial   commences,   290 ; 
the  verdict,  292  ;  the  after-effects  of 
the  trial,  292,  et  seq.  ;  the  first  Synod 
of  Oscott,  sermon  on  *  the   Second 
Spring,'    295  ;    enormous    costs    of 
litigation,    defrayed    by    the    whole 
CathoUc  world,  294,   304  ;    goes  up 
to  London  for  judgment,  296  ;    the 
demand  for  a   new   trial,  297-300 ; 
refused,  300 ;    the  closing  scenes  in 
court,  300-304  ;  death  of  Fr.  Joseph 
Gordon,  302  ;  the  Catholic  Univer- 
sity in  Ireland,  8,  9,  305,  et  seq.  ;  the 
attitude  of  rival  factions,  305,  et  seq., 
628,  et  seq.  ;  Newman's  views  on  the 
advance   of    scientific   thought,    the 
secularist  intellectual  atmosphere  of 
the    age,    306-310;    the  Synod    of 
Thurles,   310-31 1  ;  Newman's  sym- 
pathy with  the  attitude  of  Dr.  Russell 
as  contrasted  with  that  of  Dr.  Cullen, 
310,  et  seq.  ;   accepts  Rectorship  of 
Irish  University,  311  ;  his  trust  in  the 
Holy  See,  312-313  ;  proposal  to  make 
Newman  a  bishop,  326,  et  seq.  ;  oppo- 
sition to   the    University  from  Irish 
persons  of  influence,  334,  etseq.,  356- 
358,    385-386;    travels  in    Ireland, 
T^yj, etseq.  ;  opening  of  the  Brompton 
Oratory,   341  ;    inaugural  address  to 
new  University  on  Christianity  and 
Letters,  342  ;  routine  life  of  the  Uni- 
versity, 344,  et  seq.  ;    scheme  for  an 
Oratory  at  Dublin,  346-347  ;  builds 
the    University    Church,    346-349  ; 
preaches  many   of  the    '  Occasional 
Sermons '    before     the     University, 
348  ;  the  medical  schools,  349  ;  the 
Atlantis,  designed  to  aid  the  scien- 
tific department   in   the  University, 
350,  418,  et  seq.  ;  question  of  State 


recognition,  351,    628-629;     letters 

to  the  Catholic  Standard  ox\Qnxi\&z.'a. 
War,   352-354  ;    misunderstandings, 
resigns  Rectorship,  355,  362,  366, 370, 
374,   445,  ^^j^^.,  629-633  ;    reasons 
for  the  failure,  355,  et  seq. ;  Newman's 
account  of  his  differences  with  Dr. 
Cullen,  365,  et  seq.,  380-386;    con- 
nection    with    the    Rambler    under 
Mr.  Capes's  editorship,  417,  et  seq.  ; 
asKed  to   undertake  a  new  English 
version  of  the  Bible,   10,  418-428; 
the  American  translation,  426-428  ; 
Newman's  proposed  Prolegomena  to 
the   English    translation,    423-427  ; 
they  were  to  deal  with  the  philosophy 
of  Faith,  417,  et  seq.  ;  Wiseman's  tour 
in  Ireland,    referred  to  by  Newman 
in  his  '  Northmen  and   Normans  in 
England     and     Ireland,'   430-432 ; 
his  Essay  on  'The  Benedictine  Cen- 
turies '    touches     on     the     question 
of  theological  conservatism  and  the 
need  for  new    replies   to    new  diffi- 
culties,  432-437  ;     anxieties     about 
the    Rambler,    437-443  ;      relations 
with  Sir   J.    Acton   and    DiJllinger, 
443-445  ;    opening   of   the   Oratory 
School,  445,  450-457  ;  final  separa- 
tion   of  the  Birmingham  and  Lon- 
don   Oratories,    450 ;    development 
of    Liberal    Catholicism,    458-467  ; 
the  history  of  the  Liberal  Movement 
on   the  Continent,   460-467  ;  New- 
man's connection  with  the  movement 
and  with  Acton,  467,  et  seq.  ;  Acton 
sets  forth  his  views  in  the  Rambler, 
474  ;   hostility  to  the    Rambler,  the 
English    Bishops    and   others,   4S0, 
et  seq.  ;  Newman  becomes  editor,  10, 
481-496,  633-637  ;    resigns   editor- 
ship, 496,  et  seq.  ;    his  article  '  On 
Consulting  the  Faithful  in  Matters  of 
Doctrine,'  502,  et  seq.  ;  controversy  on 
clerical  education   in    the    Rambler, 
512-518  ;     on  the  Temporal  Power 
of    the    Pope,     520,    et    seq.  ;     the 
Rambler    changes   its  name    to  the 
Hovie  and  Foreign     Review,     536- 
567 ;    the    Munich    Congress,     562, 
et   seq.  ;     the    Munich    Brief,    564, 
641-642 ;    suspension   of  the    Home 
and     Foreign      Review,     565-567  ; 
Newman's  despondency,  56S,  et  seq. ; 
rumours  of  his  approaching  secession 
from  the  Catholic  Church,  579,  et  seq.  ; 
his  indignant  published   reply,    580, 
et  seq.  ;  letter  to    Mr.   Albert  Smith 
on     the    same    subject,    654 ;     sad 
days  and  trials,  567-614,  643-644  ; 
friendships  of  these  years,  594-614; 


6i4 


LIFE   OF   CARDINAL   NEWMAN 


conversion  of  W.  Froude's  daugh- 
ter and  two  sons,  644-650  ;  a  visit 
to  Cambridge,  meeting  with  Mr. 
Fisher,  647-649  ;  Pusey's  position  at 
this  time,  649 ;  a  visit  to  Ostend, 
651-652  ;  correspondence  with  Mr. 
Brownlow  on  graces  received  by 
Anglicans  and  on  Catholic  image 
worship,  652-653  ;  to  the  same  on 
Transubstantiation,  653.  Kingsley's 
attack  in  Macmillan's  Magazine,  ii. 
1-6  ;  Newman's  defence,  1-6  ;  R.  H, 
Hutton  sums  up  the  controversy  in 
\h&  Spectator,  i,-b,  11-12  ;  Kingsley's 
pamphlet  called  '  What  then  does  Dr. 
Newman  Mean  }'  "j,  et  seq.  Newman 
publishes  the  '  Apologia  pro  Vita 
Sua'  in  weekly  numbers,  i.  Ii.  ii. 
13-46;  Dean  Church  and  others 
consulted  while  he  was  writing  the 
'Apologia,  \\.iq,etseq  ;  extraordinary 
change  in  public  opinion  wrought  by 
its  publication,  3 1 ,  etseq.;  a  triumph  for 
its  author,  35  ;  attacks  on  the '  Apolo- 
gia,' 33-34>  42-43  ;  Newman's  analy- 
sis in  the  'Apologia'  of  the  intellectual 
attitude  of  an  educated  Catholic,  36- 
45  ;  Mgr.  Talbot's  invitation  to  New- 
man to  preach  at  Rome  declined  by 
him,  47,  539  ;  abolition  of  tests  at  the 
English  Universities,  48.  The  ques- 
tion of  Catholics  frequenting  English 
Universities,  i.  II.  ii.  50-78,  542- 
543  ;  text  of  the  '  questions  '  on  the 
subject  sent  to  English  Catholics  by 
the  ecclesiastical  authorities,  540-542 ; 
scheme  for  a  Catholic  College  or 
Hall  at  Oxford,  50,  et  seq.  ;  Catholics 
discouraged  from  going  to  Oxford, 
51  ;  the  Oratorians  buy  land  at 
Oxford  with  a  view  to  providing  an 
Oratory  in  the  city,  53,  et  seq.  Oppo- 
sition to  the  scheme,  i.  12.  ii.  54, 
et  seq.  ;  opponents  appeal  to  Rome 
for  support,  64-65  ;  the  scheme 
defeated  by  English  Bishops  and 
Propaganda,  65-71  ;  Newman's 
reasons  in  favour  of  the  Oxford 
scheme,  70-71  ;  sells  his  Oxford 
land,  71  ;  Wiseman's  death,  72,  86  ; 
Newman  writes  the  '  Dream  of 
Gerontius,'  76-78 ;  the  Encyclical 
Quanta  C«;-(Z— Newman's  views  on 
the  binding  force  of  Encyclicals, 
79-86  ;  the  Association  for  the  Pro- 
motion of  the  Unity  of  Christendom, 
81  ;  Manning  created  Archbishop  of 
Westminster,  87  ;  Pusey's  '  Eireni- 
con '  {q.v.),  91-92,  96,  et  seq.; 
Newman's  last  meeting  with  Keble 
and  Pusey,   94-97  ;  Keble's   death, 


97-98 ;  Newman  deprecates  the 
doctrinal  extravagances  of  Faber 
and  Ward,  100,  et  seq.  ;  his  reply  to 
the  '  Eirenicon,'  102,  et  seq.  ;  R.  W. 
Church's  article  in  the  Times  on 
Newman's  '  Letter  to  Dr.  Pusey,' 
109,  et  seq.  ;  the  question  of  an  Ox- 
ford Oratory  revived,  121-185,  543- 
544  ;  the  sanction  of  Propaganda  ob- 
tained, 131  ;  but  he  himself  is  by  a 
'  secret  instruction  '  forbidden  to  re- 
side there,  139;  his  advice  as  to  young 
Catholics  frequenting  the  Universi- 
ties, 193,  545-546  ;  an  address  of 
sympathy  from  the  English  laity  to, 
143,  et  seq.,  544-545  ;  he  commissions 
two  Oratorian  Fathers  to  explain  his 
views  in  Rome,  1 50- 185  ;  Fathers 
St.  John  and  Bittleston  are 
sent  thither,  150-185  and  546- 
549;  Father  Ryder's  pamphlet 
against  Ward's  '  Idealism  in  Theo- 
logy,' 149,  224-228 ;  the  con- 
troversy that  followed,  229,  et  seq.  ; 
Memorandum  on  the  Oxford  ques- 
tion sent  by  Oratorians  to  Cardinal 
Barnabo,  549-551  ;  the  scheme 
abandoned,  180-185,  192-195  ;  the 
deadlock  in  Catholic  Higher  Educa- 
tion, 186-199,  554-555  ;  fears  lest  the 
Oratory  School  should  be  stopped, 
190-192  ;  Dr.  CuUen's  highly  favour- 
able reports  to  Rome  on  Newman's 
writings,  192  ;  Newman  receives  an 
invitation  to  help  in  preparing  the 
matter  for  discussion  at  the  Vatican 
Council,  192 ;  Manning's  scheme 
for  Catholic  University  College, 
195-198;  the  University  College, 
Kensington,  198-199 ;  Newman's 
'  Poems,'  204 ;  his  farewell  visit 
to  Littlemore,  205-206.  '  Essay 
in  Aid  of  a  Grammar  of  Assent ' 
(q.v.),  i.  12.  ii.  208,  242-265; 
Ward's  reception  thereof,  271,  et 
seq.  ;    the  Papacy    and    Liberalism, 

208,  etseq.  ;  the  Neo-Ultramontanes, 

209,  et  seq.  Discussion  on  Ultra- 
montanism  and  Papal  Infallibility,  i. 
25.  ii.  212,  et  seq.  ;  Ward's  attitude, 
230-234,  237  ;  which  he  modifies, 
235,  et  seq.  ;  Newman's  views  on  the 
question,  218-223,  231,  et  seq.,  279- 
312  ;  Mr.  P.  le  Page  Renouf  and  the 
Honorius  case,  235;  relations  between 
theology  and  the  definition,  238-240, 
279-280,  295-299  ;  the  necessity  for 
discussion  before  definition,  282-283, 
286-289,  295-299  ;  his  state  of  mind 
during  the  progress  of  the  Council, 
299,  et  seq.,  552;  the  deliberations 


INDEX 


615 


of  the  Council  and  the  passing  of  the 
definition,  300,  et  seq.  ;  Newman's 
private  letter  to  Dr.  Ullathorne 
appears  in  the  Standard,  289  ; 
he  speaks  in  it  of  an  '  insolent 
and  aggressive  faction,'  289-293 ; 
Canons  of  the  Council  on  the  In- 
spiration of  Scripture,  293-295  ; 
Newman's  acceptance  of  the  dogma 
of  Infallibility,  307,  et  seq.,  373, 
et  seq.  ;  his  fears  as  to  the  conse- 
quences of  the  definition,  308,  et  seq. ; 
letters  after  the  Council  to  persons 
tried  by  the  definition  of  1870,  379, 
et  seq.,  55^-559  ;  discussion  about 
Catholics  frequenting  Oxford  re- 
opened by  Dr.  Northcote,  311-312; 
Franco- Prussian  War,  554  ;  home- 
life  at  the  Oratory,  313,  et  seq.  ; 
Newman's  own  care  in  writing  his 
letters,  314,  et  seq.  ;  his  interest  in 
past  correspondence  and  diaries, 
315,  et  seq.;  his  controversial  me- 
thods compared  with  those  of  Mr. 
Gladstone,  329  ;  relations  with 
R.  H.  Ilutton,  332,  et  seq.  ;  asked 
to  join  the  Metaphysical  Society, 
332-334  ;  his  ideal  of  a  happy 
life,  his  home  at  Ham,  336-340 ; 
memories  of  the  past,  336,  et  seq.  ; 
miracles  and  Providence,  342,  et 
seq.  ;  his  musical  attainments,  re- 
miniscences by  Mr.  Bellasis,  349- 
351  ;  Father  Ryder's  reminiscences, 
351  ;  daily  life  and  habits  and  tastes 
in  literature  and  theology,  352  ;  his 
position  in  public  estimation,  358  ; 
his  memoranda  and  mementoes, 
361,  et  seq.  ;  relations  with  R.  W. 
Church  and  Lord  Blachford,  381, 
et  seq.,  et  passim  ;  a  visit  from  Canon 
Scott  Holland,  who  records  his  im- 
pressions, 369-370  ;  the  old  Catholic 
movement  and  Dr.  DoUinger,  372  ; 
Mgr.  Fessler's  book  on  '  True  and 
False  Infallibility,'  373,  et  seq.  ; 
secession  of  Dr.  DoUinger  and  others, 
375.  379>  3S0;  fall  of  the  Papal 
Sovereignty,  380 ;  revision  of  his 
writings,  380  ;  new  honours  for  his 
friends  Rogers  and  Church,  382, 
et  seq.  ;  an  episode  in  St.  Paul's 
Cathedral,  385-386  ;  deaths  of 
many  old  friends,  387-391  ;  corre- 
spondence with  Principal  Brown  on 
Christian  Unity,  392-396 ;  the 
Gladstone  controversy,  397,  et  seq.  ; 
Gladstone's  Irish  University  Bill, 
397,  et  seq.  ;  Gladstone's  attack 
on  Vatican  decrees,  401,  et  seq.; 
Newman   decides  to   answer    Glad- 


stone, 402,  559,  et  seq.  '  The 
Letter  to  the  Duke  of  Norfolk,' 
i.  12.  ii.  403,  et  seq.  ;  Ward's 
letter  to  Newman  thereon,  565-566; 
Ambrose  St.  John's  death,  409,  etseq. ; 
other  losses,  413,  569,  et  seq.  ; 
letters  on  the  approach  of  an  age 
of  infidelity,  415,  et  seq.  ;  revi- 
sion and  reprints  of  some  of  his 
works,  418-425  ;  he  writes  an  im- 
portant introduction  to  the  Via 
Media,  421-425  ;  elected  Honorary 
Fellow  of  Trinity  College,  Oxford, 
425-432 ;  other  manifestations  of 
respect,  425,  et  seq.  ;  dedication  of 
new  edition  of  '  Development'  to  the 
Fellows  of  Trinity,  426-429  ;  a  visit 
to  Trinity  College,  429-431  ;  elec- 
tion of  Pope  Leo  XIII.,  432,  435  j 
proposal  that  Newman  should  be 
created  a  Cardinal,  435,  et  seq.  ;  the 
Duke  of  Norfolk's  reasons  for 
making  the  suggestion  to  Leo  XIII., 
436-438  ;  the  report  that  Newman 
had  refused  the  Hat,  443  ;  text  of 
Manning's  tribute  to  Newman,  577- 
578  ;  official  offer  of  the  Cardinalate 
45°>  5^3 ;  congratulations  from 
friends,  452,  577,  et  seq.  ;  his  reasons 
for  accepting  tlie  honour,  586;  journey 
to  Rome,  audience  with  the  Pope, 
457  ;  the  Cfjnsistory,  458  ;  text  of  the 
address  to  Cardinal  Newman  from 
British  residents  at  Rome,  464 ;  he 
hopes  to  change  the  attitude  of  Dr. 
DoUinger,  466  ;  letter  to  W.  Froude 
on  the  reasonableness  of  Faith,  465, 
586-592  ;  death  of  W.  Froude,  466  ; 
the  journey  home,  467,  et  seq.  ;  final 
tasks,  472-537  ;  the  reception  of  the 
Cardinal  at  Norfolk  House,  472 ; 
visit  to  Trinity  (Oxford),  sermon  at 
St.  Aloysius's  Church,  473 ;  corre- 
spondence on  Higher  Education 
for  Catholics,  473,  et  seq.,  484-487  ; 
his  views  placed  before  the  Pope, 
486  ;  the  necessity  of  revising  the 
defences  of  Christianity,  474,  et  seq.  ; 
death  of  his  sister,  Mrs.  John 
Mozley,  479  ;  loss  of  other  friends, 
480-483  ;  recollections  of  child- 
hood, 483  ;  encourages  the  work  of 
Catholic  and  Christian  Apologetics, 
487-497  ;  his  interest  in  the  writings 
of  Catholics— Mr.  W.  S.  Lilly, 
Father  Ryder,  Mr.  Wilfrid  Ward, 
488-489 ;  visit  from  Mr.  Ward, 
explanations  as  to  past  differences 
with  W.  G.  Ward  and  conversation 
on  modern  unl)elief,  490-497  ;  the 
relation  of  Science  to  Theology,  the 


6i6 


LIFE   OF  CARDINAL   NEWMAN 


training  needed  for  a  nineteenth- 
century  theologian,  497,  et  seq.  ; 
Catholic  teaching  on  the  Inspiration 
of  Scripture,  502,  et  seq.  ;  essay 
on  the  '  Inspiration  of  Scripture ' 
in  the  Nineteenth  Century,  502- 
505  ;  essay  on  the  '  Development  of 
Religious  Error  'against  Dr.  Fair- 
bairn,  505-507 ;  Dr.  Fairbairn's  re- 
joinder, and  Newman's  unpublished 
reply,  507-511  ;  last  years,  512-537  ; 
his  interest  in  the  Egyptian  cam- 
paign and  Gordon's  fate,  513,  et  seq.  ; 
sits  for  his  portrait  to  MiUais,  516; 
on  political  relations  between  Eng- 
land and  Ireland,  517  ;  sermon  at  the 
celebration  of  Sacerdotal  Jubilee  of 
Pope  Leo  XIII.,  529-530  ;  meetings 
with  Bishop  Ullathorne,  531-532  ; 
closmg  sceijes,  532,  et  seq.  ;  last  days 
and  the  end,  536-537 
Newman,  Mary,  i.  40.  ii.  483-484 
Newsham,  Dr.,  President  of  Ushaw, 
i.  98,  III,  204,  207,  209,  214,  228, 
316  «.,  419.  See  also  Letters 
Newton    (Sir  Isaac),  i.   623,  641.     ii. 

33i>  590,  591 
Neyraguet,  Pere  D.,  ii.  i6 
Nicaea,  Council  of,  i.  503.     ii.  377 
Nicholas,  Auguste,  i.  397,  461,  462 
Nicholas,  Dr.  :  Newman  at  his  school, 

i.  29 
Nina,  Cardinal,  ii.  438,  439,  440,  441, 

443.  450.  457,  45^.  583-     See  also 
Letters 

Nineteenth  Century,  The  :  Newman 
writes  in,  on  the  '  Inspiration  of 
Scripture,'  ii.  502,  et  seq.  ;  also  re- 
ferred to,  356 

Noble,  Dr.,  see  Letters 

Nocera,  i.  188 

Noetics,  The  Oriel,  i.  36,  37,  43,  57 

Norfolk,  Henry  (15th  Duke  of),  and 
Newman's  Cardinalate,  ii.  435- 438, 
443,  446,  450,  472-473.  577  ;  his 
letter  to  the  biographer  on  the  sub- 
ject, 436.  Referred  to,  i.  12,  232. 
ii.  82,  390,  403,  432.  See  also 
Letters 

Norfolk,  Lady  Arundel  and  Surrey 
Duchess  of  (wife  of  14th  Duke),  con- 
version, i.  228,  423.     ii.  390,  526 

Norfolk,  Lord  Arundel  and  Surrey 
(I4ih  Duke  of)  (Henry  Granville),  i. 
297,  300,  332,  423,  604 

Norris,  Fr.  John,  ii.  349,  473.  See 
also  dedication  of  present  work. 

North  British  Review,  i.  566 

Northcote,  James  Spencer,  D.  D. ,  i.  84, 
108,  121,  131,  263,  302,  319.  ii. 
^99,  3",  480.     See  also  Letters 


'  Notes  on  a  Visit  to  the  Russian 
Church  in  1840-1841,'  pamphlet  by 
William  Palmer,  ii.  478 


Oakeley,  Frederick,  joins  Trac- 
tarians,  i.  67;  leaves  Oxford,  84; 
received  into  the  Catholic  Church, 
96 ;  confirmed  at  Oscott,  98 ;  settles 
at  St.  Edmund's,  Ware,  109  ;  con- 
tributes to  the  Rambler,  24^  ;  tempo- 
rary editor  of  Dublin  Review,  481. 
Also  referred  to,  i.  103,  108,  131, 
133,  479,  489,  549,  615.  ii.  155, 181, 
578,  579-     See  also  Letters 

O'Brien,  Judge,  i.  335 

O'Brien,  Smith,  ii.  517 

O'Callaghan,  Dr.  (Rector  of  English 
College),  ii.  464  n. 

O'Curry,  Eugene,  i.  350,  359  «.,  382, 
629 

O'Dwyer,  Dr.,  Bishop  of  Limerick,  i, 
310 

O'Ferrall,  James,  i.  335,  362 

O'Ferrall,  More,  i.  361,  633.     ii.  196 

Ogilvie,  Dr.,  ii.  571 

Ogle,  James  Adey,  i.  372.     ii.  571 

O'Hagan,  John,  i.  359.  ii.  456.  See 
also  Letters 

O'Hagan,  Lord  (Lord  Chancellor  of 
Ireland),  i.  333,  335 

Old  Oscott,  see  Maryvale 

Olier,  M.  (founder  of  St.  Sulpice), 
i.  512 

Oliver,  Dr.,  ii.  104 

'  On  ConsuUing  the  Faithful  in  Matters 
of  Doctrine  ' — article  by  Newman  in 
the  Rambler,  i.  502  ;  Newman  de- 
lated to  Rome  for  the  article,  10, 
503 ;  argument  of  the  article,  503, 
504 ;  its  effect  upon  Newman's 
position  in  Catholic  body,  504 ;  it 
pained  the  Pope,  504.  ii.  125, 
161  ;  Mgr.  Talbot  on  the  article, 
146,  147,  165,  166;  orthodoxy  of  the 
article  upheld  by  Fr.  Cardella,  174  ; 
Franzelin  attacks  its  theology,  174; 
St.  John  and  Perrone  urge  Newman  to 
explain,  174;  Newman's  reply  to 
critics,  174  [see  also  i.  503)  ;  final 
interviews  of  St.  John  in  Rome 
about,  178,  179,  180;  discussed  by 
St.  John  and  Perrone,  546,  547, 
548  ;  Fr.  Cardella's  opinion  of,  548, 
549 ;  Oratorian  Fathers'  memo- 
randum respecting,  549.  Referred 
to,  i.   358,  510,  571.      ii.  167 

'  On  the  Relation  of  Intellectual  Power 
to    Man's  True    Perfection,'  Ward's 
pamphlet,  i.  637,  et  seq. 
Oratory,     see     Birmingham,     Dublin, 


INDEX 


617 


London,  Malta,  Naples,  Oxford,  and 
Roman  Oratory 
O'Reilly,  Father  Edmund,  i.  320,  359, 
408-409,  429,  432,  548.     ii.  83,  84, 

O'Reilly,  John,  i.  317,  327,  349,  359, 
362 

Oriel  College,  Fellowship  gained  by 
Newman,  i.  34  ;  Newman's  career 
at,  36  ;  his  Fellowship,  turning  point 
in  Newman's  early  life,  36  ;  referred 
to,  150,  199,  227.  ii.  425,  426, 
427,  524 

Origen,  i.  172,434-     "•  39 

Ornsby,  Robert,  i.  296,  349,  359,  361, 
362,  367,  370,  379,  3^3,  446,  447, 
448,  449,  545,  581-  ii.  49,  50,  S7. 
See  also  Letters 

Oscott  {see  also  Maryvale)  :  the  Oxford 
converts  go  to,  i.  96 ;  confirmation 
of  Oxford  converts  at,  98  ;  Newman 
visits,  III  ;  First  Synod,  Newman 
preaches  at,  295 ;  Second  Synod, 
418.  Provincial  Synod  of  Birming- 
ham at,  ii.  35  ;  Cardinal  Reisach 
visits,  127.  Referred  to,  i.  109, 
197.     ii.  50,  197,  438,  440,  441 

Ouless,  Mr.,  ii.  425,  427,  428 

Oxenham,  H.    N.,  i.  512-518,  530 

Oxford  {^see  also  Trinity  and  Oriel  Col- 
leges) :  Newman's  influence  at,  in 
1838,  i.  5,  6,  66,  346.  And  chapters 
ii.  and  iii.  passim.  Affection  for,  i. 
7,  117,  118,  139,650.  ii.  48,  370. 
Goes  up  to,  i.  32  ;  life  at,  32,  et  scq.  ; 
Fellow  of  Oriel,  34  ;  curate  of  St. 
Clement's,  38  ;  Vicar  of  St.  Mary's, 
40  ;  resigns  vicarage  of  St.  Mary's, 
76  ;  resigns  Oriel  Fellowship,  92  ; 
leaves  finally,  116,  117  ;  transition  of 
intellectual  character  of  the  Univer- 
sity between  1845  and  1850,  306,  309. 
Abolition  of  tests,  ii.  48  ;  Newman 
visits  Littlemore  in  1868,  205,  et  seq.\ 
visits  Oxford,  429-431,  473;  New- 
man asked  to  preach  at  opening  of 
CathoUc  church,  565.  Also  referred 
to,  i.  124,  149,  166,  170,  190,  202, 
205,  208,  237,  248,  312,  345.  ii. 
382  and  chapters  ii.  and  iii.  passim. 

Oxford :  education  for  Catholics  at, 
Newman's  interest  in  the  question, 
ii.  48,  et  seq.  ;  Newman's  views  on 
Catholics  frequenting  Universities, 
50,  70,  71,  136,  149,  150,  192- 
195,  484,  546,  547,  555  ;  offer  of  the 
Mission  at  Oxford  to  Oratorians, 
land  bought  in  view  of  possibility  of 
Catholic  Hall  and  Oratory,  51,  54; 
plan  of  Hall  abandoned,  but  Oratory 
retained,    54,    55 ;    Newman's    ob- 


ject in    opening    an    Oratory,     55, 

58  ;  appeal  for  funds,  58-60  ;  history 
of  the  opposition  to  Newman's  going 
to  Oxford,  62-65  ;  ^^i'y  petition 
Rome  to  be  allowed  to  go  to  Oxford, 
65  ;  prohibition  of  Bishops  and  Propa- 
ganda against  Catholics  going  to  Ox- 
ford, 65-69  ;  end  of  first  scheme, 
71  ;  Newman  buys  fresh  land  and 
again  offered  Mission,  121  ;  sanc- 
tion of  Propaganda  sought  for  an 
Oratory — the  mission  of  Cardinal 
Reisach,  122;  the  scheme  in 
suspense,  1 29-131  ;  Newman's  an- 
nouncement of  Propaganda's  permis- 
sion and  the  appeal  for  funds,  13 1- 
I3[  ;  difficulties  raised  by  the  appeal, 
1 35 '1 37,  the  question  of  a  site, 
137,  138;  the  'secret  instruction' 
forbidding  Newman  to  go  to  Oxford 
and  the  attack  on  him  in  the  Weekly 
Register,  138-143  ;  the  address  of 
sympathy  from  the  English  laity, 
143 -149  ;  Newman  appeals  to 
Rome,  149  -  151  ;  scheme  'hung 
up '  pending  the  Roman  appeal, 
152,  153;  Vathers  St.  John  and 
Bittleston  in  Rome  and  attitude  of 
Rome,  156-180,  et  passim,  546,  547  ; 
the  English  Bishops  and  Propaganda 
on  Catholics  frequenting  Oxford, 
156  «.,  182,  183  ;  Oratorian  Fathers' 
memorandum  to  Propaganda,  180, 
549,  551  ;  finally  dropped,  180-187; 
text  of  extract  from  the  Weekly 
Hej^ister,  543  ;  question  of  a  Catholic 
College  again  raised,  311,  312; 
brought  before  Leo  XIII. ,  486.  Re- 
ferred to,  i.  II,  12.  ii.  190,  198, 
199,  200,  374 

Oxford  Movement :  its  object,  i.  5  ; 
Newman's  anxiety  to  develop,  6  ; 
its  beginning,  56,  57 ;  in  Newman's 
view  an  antidote    to   infidelity,    56, 

59  ;  publication  of  Froude's 
'  Memoirs,'  60,  61  ;  Romanising 
influence  brought  to  bear  upon,  67, 
71  ;  Tract  90,  72-74;  'Jerusalem 
Bishopric,'  74  ;  growing  suspicion  of, 
among  the  Heads  of  Houses,  74,  75  ; 
Ward's  '  Ideal  of  a  Christian  Church,' 
79  ;  Newman  retires  from,  79  ;  first 
conversions,  84  ;  described  in  '  Loss 
and  Gain,'  191  ;  revival  of,  in  1S64, 
593.  Proposal  to  build  a  church  in 
Oxford  in  commemoration  of,  ii.  54, 
et  seq.  ;  Newman  praises  Dean 
Church's  history  of,  513.  Also  re- 
ferred to,  i.  235,  312,  387,  592.     ii. 

138 
Ozanam,  Frederick,  i.  13,  461,  464 


6i8 


LIFE   OF  CARDINAL   NEWMAN 


Pagani,  Fr.,    letter  on  Fr.  Faber,  i. 

423 
Paget,  Bishop,  ii.  520 
Palma,  Mgr.,  i.  183,  187,  194 
Palmer,  William,  helps  Oratorians  in 
Rome,  ii.  158  ;  hands  to  Propaganda 
a  statement  of  the  Oxford  question, 
170,    173,    180;     interest   of  New- 
man in,  520  ;    draft  of  his  memor- 
andum   to    Propaganda    on    behalf 
of  the  Oratorian  fathers,  549.     Also 
referred  to,  i.  167.     ii.  158,  163,  164, 
176,  178,  179,  478 
Palmerston,  Lord,  i.  277,  521 
Papacy   [see   also  Infallibility,  Vatican 
Council  ;    Vatican    decrees) — Rome 
approves     of     Catholic     University 
in     Ireland,    i.    8;    Newman's   be- 
lief in  the  practical  wisdom  of  its  de- 
cisions, 19,  388  ;    Newman's  loyalty 
to,   25.      ii.     279 ;    papal    approval 
of  Newman's   writings,    192,    240  ; 
Duke     of    Norfolk    on     Newman's 
attitude  towards,  437 

Temporal  Power  of  the  {see  also 
Pius  IX.,  and  Rambler):  intolerant 
movement  in  defence  of,  i.  10  ;  New- 
man's moderate  views  on,  24,  520, 
et  seq.,  585 ;  Newman's  indignation 
at  proceedings  of  Victor  Emmanuel 
and  Cavour,  520  ;  Newman's  '  The 
Pope  and  the  Revolution,'  520,  521; 
Newman  on  the  attempt  to  make  the 
Temporal  Power  ^  defide,'  521,  522, 
523  ;  Manning's  extreme  views  on 
the  Temporal  Power  afterwards 
changed,  522,  525  ;  Newman  on  the 
suppression  of  the  Temporal  Power, 
380 
Papal  Aggression :  Mr.  Capes'  lectures 
on  the,  i.  259 ;  rising  feeling  in 
England  against  the  new  Hierarchy, 
252,  253  ;  Wiseman's  policy,  253  ; 
Wiseman  summoned  to  Rome,  253  ; 
Wiseman's  '  Flaminian  Gate  '  pas- 
toral, 254  ;  Wiseman  made  a  Car- 
dinal, and  expected  to  reside  in 
Rome,  254 ;  the  Durham  Letter, 
255>  318;  Protestant  indignation 
in  England  at  the  '  Flaminian  Gate ' 
pastoral,  255  ;  Wiseman's  courage 
and  tact  on  his  return  to  England, 
255  ;  Wiseman's  '  Appeal  to  the 
English  People,'  256  ;  Newman's 
appreciation  of  Wiseman's  courage, 
256 ;  Newman  opposed  to  Wise- 
man's '  go-ahead  '  policy,  257,  258  ; 
Newman  wishes  Catholics  to  avoid 
boasting,  257,  et  seq.  ;  Newman  de- 
precates attacks  by  Catholics  on  An- 
glican Church,  258,    266  ;  Newman 


regards  the  new  Hierarchy  as  prema- 
ture, 260 ;  Newman's  letters  to 
Capes,  259-266 ;  Newman  lectures 
in  Corn  Exchange  on  '  Present 
Position  of  Catholics,'  264  ;  also 
referred  to,  232 

Pascal,  i.  2,  3 

Passaglia,  Fr.,  i.  172,  174 

Passionists :  in  England,  i.  222 ;  in 
Rome,  145,  147,  153,  162,  184 

'  Pastor  Aeternus,'  the  Papal  decree 
containing  the  definition  of  Infalli- 
bility, ii.  238 

Patterson,  James  Laird,  afterwards 
Bishop  of  Emmaus,  on  Newman's 
differences  with  Cardinal  Cullen,  i. 
369-370.  Contributes  towards  Ox- 
ford Oratory,  ii.  133,  134.  Also 
referred  to,  i.  578-579.  ii.  60, 
61,  155.     See  also  Letters 

Pattison,  Mark,  intimate  friend  of 
Newman,  ii.  348 ;  Newman  corre- 
sponds with,  and  visits  during  his 
last  illness,  480-483.  Also  referred 
to,  i.  22,  85,  307,  309.  ii.  138.  See 
also  Letters 

Paul  III.,  Pope,  i.  538 

Paul,  Kegan,  Mr.,  i.  191 

Paul,  St.,  of  the  Cross,  i.  162 

Peel,  Sir  Robert,  founds  the  Queen's 
Colleges  in  Ireland,  i.  275  ;  Irish 
Bishops  opposed  to  the  Queen's  Col- 
leges, 305,  310  ;  also  referred  to,  260. 
ii.  518 

Penny,  Rev.  W.  Goodenough,  mem- 
ber of  the  Maryvale  community,  i. 
120,  140,  198;  ordained  in  Rome, 
191  ;  also  referred  to,  154,  177,  182. 
See  also  Letters 

Percival,  Dr.,  President  of  Trinity 
College,  Oxford,  ii.  452,  525.  See 
also  Letters 

Perrone,  Fr.,  steadfast  friend  of  New- 
man in  Rome,  i.  18.  ii.  155,  164,  548, 
His  substantial  agreement  with  New- 
man's theory  of  development,  i.  162, 
184-187  ;  and  on  the  difierence  be- 
tween moral  and  demonstrative  evi- 
dence, 164  ;  his  treatise  on  '  Reason 
and  Faith,'  168  ;  advises  Newman  to 
explain  his  Ratnbler  zxix^^c  on  '  Con- 
sulting the  Faithful,'  174,  546-548; 
interviewed  by  Fr.  St.  John  about 
Oratory  at  Oxford,  546-548.  Also 
referred  to,  i.  147,  167,  175,  420. 
i'-  '79)  562.     See  also 'L.ft\X.ti% 

Petavius,  i.  161,  250 

Petre,  Lord  (12th  Baron),  ii.  145, 
147,  196,  435,  577 

Philip,  St.,  mentioned,  passim  ;  New- 
man's   analysis   of    his    Rule,    178, 


INDEX 


619 


179;  Rule  for  English  Oratories, 
180 

Phillimore,  Professor  J.  S.,  i.  133 

Philosophy,  Newman's,  see  '  Develop- 
ment '  and  '  Grammar  of  Assent ' 

'Phormio,'  of  Terence,  i.  613.  ii. 
.73.  204 

Pia,  Sister  Maria,  see  Giberne 

Piedmont,  i.  520.     ii.  197 

Pius  v.,  St.,  Newman  and  Acton 
on  Simpson's  attack  on,  in  the 
Rambler,  i.  518-530,  533,  559 

Pius  VII.,  i.  251 

Pius  IX.  :  (t)  and  the  formation  of 
Hierarchies  in  England  and  Holland, 
i.  195  ;  and  the  definition  of  Im- 
maculate Conception,  195  ;  opposed 
to  Queen's  Colleges,  Ireland,  275  ; 
and  '  Liberal  '  Catholics  on  the  Con- 
tinent, 306,  462 ;  and  the  Munich 
Congress,  562,  564-565.  Issues  the 
'  Syllabus  Errorum '  and  the  Ency- 
clical Quanta  Cura,  ii.  79,  et  seq.  ; 
character  of,  and  frequency  of  his 
public  utterances,  82 ;  the  'Sylla- 
bus' not  his  direct  work,  loi  ;  per- 
sonal charm  of,  300,  301,  302,  371  ; 
his  intervention  in  the  contest  be- 
tween Liberals  and   Ultramontanes, 

.371 

Pius  IX.  :  (2)  and  union  of  Italy, 
begins  his  pontificate  as  a  reformer, 
i.  194,  462,  463  ;  flees  from  Rome  to 
Gaeta,  194  ;  returns  to  Rome,  195 

Pius  IX.  :  (3)  and  Newman — congratu- 
lates Newman  on  his  conversion,  i. 
103 ;  on  his  accession  sends  New- 
man special  blessing,  123  ;  receives 
in  audience  Newman  and  St.  John, 
148-149  ;  suggests  noviciate  at  Rome 
for  English  Oratorians,  1 80- 183  ; 
visits  English  Oratorians  at  Santa 
Croce,  187  ;  takes  up  Irish  Univer- 
sity question,  328-332  ;  and  New- 
man's proposed  bishopric,  328-331, 
336.  ii.  578 ;  Newman's  admir- 
ation of,  82,  123,  127,  301  ;  and 
Newman's  proposed  Mission  to  Ox- 
ford, 161,  544;  his  interview  with 
English  Oratorian  Fathers  in  Rome, 
166-167  ;  approves  of  Newman's 
writings,  192  ;  invites  Newman  to 
Vatican  Council,  192,  281.  New- 
man out  of  sympathy  with  his  policy, 
i.  388.  ii.  435.  Also  referred  to,  i. 
192,  519.  ii.  124-125,  139,  210, 
404  «.,  500,  560 

riusx.,i.  558 

'  Plain  Reasons  against  Joining  the 
Church  of  Rome,'  by  Dr.  Littledale, 
Newman's  protest  against,  ii.  487 


Polding,  Bishop,  i.  133 

Pollen,  Mr.  John  H.,  i.  347-348,  354- 

355.  359.  364.   387.     ii-    319,   444- 

See  also  Letters 
Pompeii,  i.  188 
Poncia,  Mrs.,  ii.  414 
Poole,    Mother    Imelda,    i.   288,   290, 

293,  294,  295,  296.    ii.   62,  67,  112, 

266,  411,  480.     See  also  Letters 
Pope.  Fr.,  Thomas  Alder,  ii.  loi,  127, 

154,  438,  441,  456-457,  463,  467. 
See  also  Letters 

Portal,  Melville,  see  Letters 

Power,  Mr.  F.,  ii.  514,  515 

Prayer-Book,  The  English :  its  inte- 
grity defended  in  the  '  Tracts  for  the 
Times,'  i.  56 

'  Present  Position  of  Catholics,  Lec- 
tures on  the,'  delivered  in  the  Bir- 
mingham Corn  Exchange  ;  circum- 
stances which  determined  their  de- 
livery, i.  263-265  ;  illustrative  ex- 
tracts from,  265-272;  the  summing 
up,  272 ;  the  lesson  to  be  learnt 
by  Catholics,  272-274  ;  lead  to 
the  Achilli  trial,  i.  275-276,  278- 
279.  Quoted,  ii.  9.  Also  referred  to, 
i.  232,  275,  303.     ii.  31,  316,  383, 

559 

Price,  The  Rev.  Mr.,  i.  207-209;  211- 
212;  213 

Prior  Park,  i.  I02,  109,  no,  3S8 

Privy  Council  gives  its  decision  in  the 
Gorham  case,  i.  230 

Probability  {see  '  Grammar  of  Assent ') ; 
Newman's  views  similar  to  those 
of  De  Lugo,  i.  163;  its  meaning  in 
Newman's  philosophy,  168,  169 

Prolegomena,  see  Bible 

Propaganda,  Collcgio  di,  selected  as 
habitat  for  the  English  Oratorians 
in  Rome,  i.  126  ;  English  Oratorians' 
life  at,  144-152,  166,  167 

Propaganda,     Congregation     of,     and 
England,  i.    167,  558-560.     ii.  420. 
Newman's  idea  for  Oratorians  to  form 
College  in  England  as  a  dependency 
of,  i.  166-167,  170;  Newman's  criti- 
cism of  its  action  in  intellectual  con- 
troversies, 560,  584  ;  and  Newman's 
writings,  586,  588.    And  Catholics  at 
Oxford,  ii.  68,  69  ;  its  sanction  sought 
for    an    Oratory   at    Oxford,     1 22  ; 
sanctions  Newman's  scheme  for    an 
Oratory    at    Oxford,    131  ;     rebukes 
Newman     for     preparing     boys    of 
Oratory    School    for   Oxford,     135 
Newman      complies     with     Propa 
ganda's     wishes,     191,     192,     193 
'  secret  instruction '  of,  to  forbid  New- 
man's residence  at  Oxford,  139,  1 87 


620 


LIFE   OF  CARDINAL    NEWMAN 


warned  by  Manning  regarding  the 
address  to  Newman  in  1867,  145, 
146  ;  letter  of  English  Bishops  to, 
regarding  Catholics  going  to  Oxford, 
156  «.  ;  its  dissuasion  of  Catholics 
from  going  to  Oxford,  182;  New- 
man's eliorts  to  defend  its  action, 
198,  199;  and  the  Oxford  mission, 
550,  551.  Also  referred  to,  i.  184, 
450,  451.     ii.  72 

'  Prophetical  Office,'  Lectures  on,  see 
Via  Media,  \.  160.    ii.  400,  418,  576 

Pugin,  Augustus  Welby,  i.  205,  257, 
260 

Punch  caricatures  the  London  Ora- 
torians,  i.  218,  252 

Punishment,  Eternal,  Newman  on 
belief  in,   i.    246,   ei   seq.,  440.     ii. 

510.  589 

Purcel],  Dr.,  Archbishop  of  Cincin- 
nati, ii.  561 

Purgatory,  Newman's  verses  on,  ii. 
319,  320;  Newman's  speculations 
about,  567,  568,  569 

Pusey,  Dr.  Edward  Bouverie  {see 
also  '  Eirenicon  '  and  '  Letter  to 
Pusey '),  the  beginnings  of  his  friend- 
ship with  Newman,  i.  38  ;  the 
Tract  on  Baptism  and  the  agitation 
against  Hampden,  57  ;  one  of  the 
leaders  of  the  Oxford  Movement, 
6\,et  seq.  Newman's  appreciation  of 
his  work  at  Oxford,  ii.  58  ;  publishes 
the  '  Eirenicon,'  91,  99,  etseq.  ;  meets 
Newman  at  Keble's  house,  92,  et seq.; 
described  by  Newman,  96  ;  New- 
man corresponds  with  him  concern- 
ing the  '  Eirenicon,'  lOO,  ei  seq.  ;  his 
preaching,  370  ;  his  illness  in  1873, 
387,  389  ;  congratulates  Newman 
on  supposed  refusal  of  Cardinalate, 
445.  Also  referred  to,  i.  31,  85, 
130,  237,  312,  561,  615,  622,  625, 
649,  651.  ii.  52,  121,  431,  463, 
486,  569.     See  also  Letters. 

Quanta  Cu7'a  Encyclical,  cf.  Pius  IX. 

Queen's  Colleges,  Views  of  the  Irish 
Episcopate  on,  i.  275-276,  305  ; 
reasons  for  their  alarm,  305-311, 
318 ;  favoured  by  some  Irish 
Catholics,  324,  336 ;  Newman's 
attitude  towards,  342,  390 ;  also 
referred  to,  317,  345,  351,  360,  388. 

ii-  157 
Quesnel,  i.  223 

'  Raccolta,'  The,  i.  204  n. 

Raglan,  Lord,  ii.  513. 

Ram,  Mgr.,  i.  628;?. 

Rambler,  The,  i.  19,  109,  224,  et  seq., 


437,  et  seq.,  458,  etseq.,  478,  etseq., 
501,  et  seq.  ii.  47,  48,  49,  62,  125, 
186-187,  400,  434 

Ranke,  Von,  i.  465,  467 

Raper,  Mr.  (Senior  Fellow  of  Trinity 
College,  Oxford),  ii.   425  n. 

Raphael,  Mother  Francis,  see  Drane 

Ravignan,  Pere  de,  i.  282,  461 

Raynaldus,  i.  223,  530 

Reinkens,  Dr.,  ii.  372 

Reisach,  Cardinal,  ii.  122,  127,  142, 
163-164,  178,  180,  200 

Renan,  Ernesi,  '  Histoired'Israel,' i.  10 

Renouf,  Mr.  Peter  le  Page,  i.  359  n, 
505.     ii.  215,  235.     See  also  Letters 

'  Retrospective  Notes  [by  Newman]  on 
Irish  Campaign,'  quoted,  i.  320,  et 
seq.,  357,  et  seq.,  368,  et  seq.,  380,  et 
seq. 

Reunion,  Corporate,  ii.  115,  et  seq. 

Riddell,  Bishop,  i.  iii 

Ripetti,  Fr.,  i.  149 

Ripon,  Lord  (Marquess  of),  and  New- 
man's Cardinalate,  ii.  435,  577,  580. 
See  also  Letters 

Rock,  Dr.,  ii.  104 

Rogers,  Sir  Frederick,  see  Lord  Blach- 
ford 

Romantic  Movement,  Part  played  by 
Catholics  in,  i.  314 

Rome,  Newman's  visit  to,  in  1833,  i.  53, 
et  seq.  ;  journey  of  Newman  and  St. 
John  to,  in  1847,  12,1,  et  seq.  ;  life  of 
Newman  and  his  friends  at,  149,  et 
seq.  ;  his  impressions  of,  153,  et  seq.  ; 
Oratorian  noviciate  at,  177,  et  seq. ; 
Newman  visitsagain,  450.  Mission  of 
Fr.  St.  John  on  question  of  Oratory 
School,  ii.  135  ;  mission  of  St.  John 
and  Bittleston  on  the  Oxford  ques- 
tion, 150,  156,  et  seq.,  546,  et  seq.; 
Newman's  last  visit  to,  when  made 
a  Cardinal,  457,  et  seq. 

Rose,  St.,  of  Lima,  Oratorian  life  of, 
i.  207 

Rosmini,  Antonio,  i.  143,  162,  166, 
171.     ii.  398 

Rosminians,  i.  125,  222 

Ross,  Sir  W,,  i.  86 

Rossi,  Fr.  Carlo,  Novice- Master  for 
English  Oratorians,  i.  183.  ii. 
585  n.  ;  congratulates  Newman  on 
Cardinalate,  585.     See  also  Letters 

Routh,  Dr.,  ii.  74 

Russell,  Dr.  (of  Maynooth),  i.  305, 
3",  320,  334,  408-409,  537  «.  ii. 
42,  408,  561.     See  also  Letters 

Russell,  Lord  John,  i.  255,  260 

Ryan,    Dr.   (Bishop    of   Limerick),    i. 

334,  338, 339 
Ryder,  Fr.  Henry  Ignatius  Dudley  :  his 


INDEX 


621 


notes  on  Newman  referred  to,  i.  15, 
18;  and  quoted,  ii.  351,  et  seq. 
Poetry  of,  i.  225.  On  the  writing  of 
the  'Apologia,'  ii.  22,  et  seq.  ;  men- 
tioned in  '  Apologia,'  41  ;  his  pam- 
phlet in  reply  to  Ward's  views  on 
Infallibility,  107,  149,  153,  et  seq., 
164,  190,  215,  373  ;  his  controversy 
with  W.  G.  Ward,  406  ;  on  New- 
man's Cardinalate,  470  ;  his  '  Catholic 
Controversy'  receives  Newman's 
approval,  488.  Also  referred  to,  i. 
199.  ii.  349,  462,  493,  572.  See 
also  Letters 

Ryder,  George  Dudley,  joins  Catholic 
Church,  i.  84,  127,  et  seq.  ;  meets 
Newman  at  Rome,  144,  et  seq.  ;  also 
referred  to,  131  «.,  147,  150,  152, 
198,  620.     ii.  452.     See  also  Letters 

Ryder,  Mrs.,  i.  127,  129 

Ryder,  Sir  George  Lisle,  i.  127,  128, 
198,  199  «. 


St.  Chad's,  Birmingham,  Newman's 
sermon  in,  quoted,  ii.  435 

St.  John,  Fr.  Ambrose,  inseparable 
friend  of  Newman,  i.  7,  84,  94,  108. 
ii.  348,  572.  Received  into  Catholic 
Church,  i.  84  ;  goes  to  Rome  with 
Newman,  133-147  ;  life  at  Rome, 
146-154  ;  his  influence  with  New- 
man in  matter  of  Oratorian  scheme, 
169,  174-184;  ordained  with  New- 
man, 184  ;  their  visit  to  Naples  Ora- 
tory, 188,  et  seq.;  ihey  leave  Rome, 
191-192;  his  friendship  with  New- 
man, 217  ;  and  the  Oratory  School, 
456-457.  Goes  ti>  Rome  on  mission 
about  Oratory  School,  ii.  135;  and  on 
the  proposed  Oxford  Oratory,  149- 
180  ;  visits  Littlemore  with  Newman, 
206  ;  begins  translation  of  Fessler's 
'  True  and  False  Infallibility,'  409. 
His  illness  and  death,  409,  et  seq., 
442,  569  ;  Newman  buried  in  same 
grave,  537.  Also  referred  to,  i.  98, 
103,  111,  120,  125,  167,  187,  193, 
227,  236,  238,  297,  300,  317,  336, 
337,  341,  358,  370,  387,  545,  618, 
619,  627.  ii.  13,  22;/.,  41,  50,  71, 
80,  84,  85,  88,  125,  130,  140,  319, 
320,  321,  400,  554,  555.  See  also 
Letters. 

St.  Sulpicc,  i.  512 

St.  Wilfrid's,  see  Cheadle 

Salamanca,  i.  271 

Salisbury,  Lord  (3rd  Marquess),  ii.  472 

Sandhurst,  ii.  63 

Santa  Croce,  English  Oratorians  at,  i. 
182 


Saturday  Review  <{MO\.ed  on  *  Apologia,' 

ii-  3? 
Scavini,  ii.  16 

Scepticism,  Newman's  real  freedom 
from,  i.  16,  30  ;  his  tendency  to 
intellectual,  31.  Newman  accused 
of,  ii.  505,  506,  507.  Also  referred 
to,  i.  168,  424 

Scheeben,  Dr.,  i.  563 

Schlegel,  Carl  William  Frederick,  i. 
308,  461,  507 

Scholasticism,  not  in  favour  at  Rome 
in  1847,  i.  166,  167,  169  n.  ;  re- 
vival of,  in  Rome,  463 ;  W.  G. 
Ward  on  value  of,  470  ;  Dollinger 
on  completeness  and  limitations  of, 
562,  et  seq. 

Schola  Theologoriim,  Newman  on  the, 
i.  653,  654.   ii    373,405  n.,  406,  564 

Schools,  Catholic,  i.  452,  et  seq. 

Schrader,  Fr. :  his  theory  of  Infallibility, 
ii.  152,  239 

Schumann,  ii.  350-351 

Science  and  Religion,  Analysis  of  New- 
man's lectures  on,  i.  392,  et  seq.,  413, 
et  seq.  ;  Acton  on,  468,  469  ;  see  also 

474,  551 

Science  and  Theology,  Relations  of,  i. 
306,  et  seq.,  435.  Their  conclusions 
compared,  ii.  5S8,  589;  make  pro- 
gress by  being  alive  to  fundamental 
uncertninties,  591 

Sconce,  Mrs.,  see  Letters 

Scott,  Sir  W. ,  i.  300.     ii.  355 

Scratton,  Mr.,  i.  362 

Scriptures,  The,  see  Bible 

Sebastopol,  ii.  317 

Seeley,  Sir  John,  his  '  Ecce  Homo ' 
reviewed  by  Newman,  ii.    118 

Semi-Arians,  i.  237 

Seminaries,  Ecclesiastical,  W.  G.  Ward 
on  teaching  of  theology  in,  i.  420, 
et  seq.,  512,  et  seq.,  528 

Sermons  :  Newman's  '  University,' 
main  object  of,  i.  22,  58 ;  New- 
man's own  high  estimate  of,  159, 
173  ;  French  translation,  170,  et 
seq.  ;  revision  of,  172,  173;  new 
edition,  174;  quoted,  336.  ii.  14. 
Complementary  to  'Essay  on  Develop- 
ment,'i.  425.  New  edition  published, 
1873,  ii.  389.  Also  referred  to,  i.  2, 
47,  58,  59,  162,  396,  623.  ii.  243, 
316  «.,  330,  336,  346. 

'Occasional,'  referred  to,  i.  lOi, 
119;/.,  521.  ii.  399.  The '  Second 
Spring,'  i.  295.     ii.  316  n. 

'  For  Mixed  Congregations,'  i.  228, 
230,  232.    ii.  559. 

'  Parochial  and  Plain,'  i.  60,  228, 
296,  387.   ii.  19,  241,  396;/.,  577. 


622 


LIFE   OF   CARDINAL   NEWMAN 


'  On  Subjects  of  the  Day,'  27  ; 
the  '  Parting  of  Friends,'  i.  76  ; 
see  also  ii.  28. 

Newman's  notes  on  preaching,  335 

Shairp,  Principal,  on  Newman's  in- 
fluence at  Oxford,  i.  63,  et  seq.  ;  also 
referred  to,  42,  60 

Shell,  Sir  Justin,  ii.  135.  See  also 
Letters 

Short,  Thomas,  i.  372.     ii.  429 

Shrewsbury,  Lady,  i.  154 

Shrewsbury,  Lord,  i.  133,  154,  221, 
333.     See  also  Letters 

Sibour,  Archbishop,  i.  13.  ii.  209,  212, 
213,  279 

Sibthorp,  R.  W.,  i.  183 

Simeon,  Lady,  see  Letters 

Simeon,  Sir  John,  i.  644.  ii.  290,  et 
seq.     See  also  Letters 

Simpson,  Mr.  Richard,  received  into 
Catholic  Church,  i.  84;  at  Milan 
visits  Newman,  142 ;  one  of  the 
earliest  contributors  to  Rambler, 
243  ;  his  attitude  to  Liberal  Catholic 
movement,  459  ;  reason  of  Ward's 
opposition  to,  471  ;  editor  of 
Rambler,  474,  et  seq.  ;  collision  with 
Hierarchy,  480  ;  Newman  persuades 
him  to  resign  editorship  of  Rambler, 
480 ;  his  protest  against  the  action 
of  I5ishops,  487  ;  Newman  urges 
patience  and  caution,  488 ;  begs 
Newman  to  accept  editorship  of 
Rambler,  488  ;  his  article  on  Tolera- 
tion, 506,  etseq.  ;  his  exaggerated  idea 
of  Newman's  sympathy  with  himself, 
512;  his  attack  on  St.  Pius  V.  in 
the  RambUr,  518;  decides  with 
Acton  to  continue  Rambler  as  Home 
and  Foreign  Review,  536,  et  seq.  ; 
his  articles  censured  by  Bishop  Ulla- 
thorne,  544  ;  his  avowal  of  re- 
sponsibility for  obnoxious  articles  in 
Rambler,  550,  et  seq.  ;  Newman's 
views  on  his  aim  and  policy,  552, 
et  seq.,  557,  etseq.  His  death,  ii.  413  ; 
Newman's  relations  with,  496.  Also 
referred  to,  i.  19,  225,  263,  481, 
496,  SOI,  504,  509  n.,  510,  523,  537, 
548,  557.  634,  et  seq.  li.  143  n.  See 
also  Letters 

Slattery,  Patrick  (Archbishop  of 
Cashel),  Newman  guest  of,  i.  338 

Smith,  Canon  Bernard,  i.  83,  96 

Smith,  Mr.  Albert,  i.  570,  ii.  51,  53. 
See  also  Letters 

Socinianism  in  Anglican  Church,  i.  204 

Solly,  Bishop,  i.  115 

'  Songs  of  the  Oratory,'  i.  224,  225 

Sora,  Duchess  of,  ii.  521 

Southey,  ii.  354 


Spectator,  The,  quoted,   ii.   5,  6.     See 

also  Hutton,  R.  PL 
Spencer,  Yx.  Ignatius,  i.  96,  162,  190 
Spurrier,  Rev.  A.,  see  Letters 
Stafford  Club,  ii.  143,  147,   148 
Stanley,    Arthur    Penrhyn    (Dean     of 

Westminster),  on  Newman's  writings, 
i.  2,  60,  67,  183 
Stanton,  Fr.  Richard,  i.  94,   120,  182, 

191,     198,    214,     332.       See    also 

Letters 
Stapleton,  i.  562 
Stephen  Harding,  St.,  Life  of,  i.   77, 

208 
Stewart,  Mr.  James,  i.  359  «.,  362. 
Stivimen  aits  Maria  Laach,  the  German 

Ultramontane  Review,  i.  465 
Stokes,  Mr.  Nasmyth,  i.  502  and  note 
Stolberg,  i.  461 
Stonor,  Mgr.,  ii.  464  «. 
Stonyhurst,   i.  Ill,  222,  280,  616.     ii. 

57,  190,  197,  452,  560 
Strauss,  i.  418 
Suarez,  i.  250 
Sullivan,  Dr.  W.  K.,  i.  349,  350,  382, 

418,  430,  629.     See  also  Letters 
Sumner,  Bishop,   '  Apostolical  Succes- 
sion,'i.  38  ;  also  referred  to,  261,521 
Swinburne,  A.  C,  ii.  356,  357 
*  Syllabus    Errorum,'   issued    in    1864, 

not  a  direct  act  of  the  Pope,  ii.  10 1  ; 

modified     by   the    Episcopate,    123, 

124;  Manning  holds  to  be  infallible, 

151  ;  also  referred  to,  371 
'Symbolik,'  Moehler's,  i.  315 


'Tablet,' The,  i.  108,  183,  212,  219, 
497>  508,  et  seq.,  633.  ii.  124,  145, 
229,  552,  554 

Tait,  A.  C,  i.  72 

Talbot,  Mgr.,  i.  120,  127,  132,  142, 
144,  155,  430,  555.  ii.  43,  47,  69, 
125,  144,  146,  157,  <?/  seq.,  i^oo,  539, 
540,  547.     See  also  Letters 

Taylor,  Dr.,  i.  322,  et  seq.,  329,  375. 
See  also  Letters 

Telford,  Rev.  J.,  see  Letters 

Temple  Church  (in  London),  i.  345 

Temporal  Power,  see  Papacy 

Tennyson,  ii.  355 

Terence,  Plays  of,  i.  29 

Terence's  '  Phormio,'  edited  by  New- 
man, ii.  73 

Tertullian,  i.  172.  ii.  39;  Newman's 
love  for,  354 

Thackeray,  i.  612,  625.     ii.  355 

Theiner,  Father,  i.  158,  169,  171, 
178,  179,  184,  223 

Theism  {see  also  Religion),  Proof  of,  i. 
169  «.  ;  W.  G.  Ward  on,  420,  421; 


INDEX 


623 


Newman   on  positive  argument  for, 
424,  425.     ii.  264,  269 

Theodoret,  ii.  399,  562 

Theology,  Newman's  scheme  for  a 
school  of,  i.  123,  et  seq.,  166,  et  seq.y 
174  ;  Newman  and  neglect  among 
Catholics  of  its  historical  side,  123, 
et  seq.  ;  Newman  on  importance  of 
schools  of,  250  ;  antagonism  of,  to 
science  at  Oxford,  306,  et  seq.  ;  New- 
man on  the  meaning  and  scope  of, 
390,  391  ;  its  place  in  a  University, 
391  ;  difficulties  raised  by  excessive 
theological  conservatism,  432,  et 
seq,  ;  creative  thought  in,  433,  et  seq.  ; 
DoUinger  on  historical  ignorance 
displayed  in  teaching  of,  493,  et  seq.  ; 
Drilliiiger  on  limitations  imposed  by 
Aristotelian  starting  -  point,  562. 
Theology  and  the  definition  of 
Papal  Infallibility,  ii.  209,  et  seq. ; 
conclusions  of  Science  compared  by 
Newman  with  those  of  Theology, 
588,  589  ;  and  Science  make  pro- 
gress by  being  alive  to  fundamental 
uncertainties,  591. 

Thomas  4  Becket,  St.,  i.  268,  343.  ii. 
125,  200 

Thonias  Aquinas,  St.,  on  doctrine  of 
Immaculate  Conception,  i.  164  ;  out 
of  favour  in  Rome,  165,  166  ;  on  the 
proof  of  Theism,  169  w.;  novelty  of 
his  method,  435.  ii.  500.  Also  re- 
ferred to,  i.  169,  171,  396,  405.  ii. 
38,  502 

Thompson,  Edward  Ilealy  H.,  i.  131, 
263,  319,  496,  SOI,  et  seq.,  509 «. 
Sec  also  Letters 

Throckmorton,  Sir  E. ,  i.    133 

Thucydides,  i.  34 

Thurle>5,  Synod  of,  i.  275,  305,  310, 
327  ;  Newman's  visit  to,  337 

Tickell,  i.  162  n. 

Tierney,  Canon,  i.  635.     ii.  104 

Tillotson,  upholder  of  Royal  supre- 
macy, ii.  117 

Times,  The,  and  Wiseman's  'Appeal  to 
the  English  People,'  i.  256  ;  on 
Achiili  trial,  292,  301.  On  the 
'  Apologia,'  ii.  23,  33  ;  its  review  of 
Newman's  answer  to  the  '  Eirenicon,' 
109,  et  seq.  Also  referred  to,  i.  273. 
ii.  443,  446 

Toole's  Theatre,  i.  217  w. 

*  Tracts  for  the  Times,'  i.  56  ;  Tract  90, 
79,  234,  616,  6i8.  ii.  8,  21,  23,  24. 
Also  referred  to,  i.  56,  57,  74,  201, 
261.     ii.  419,  421 

Trent,  Council  of,  i.  512,  616.     ii.  503 

Trinity  College,  Dublm,  i.  275,  333, 
335-     ii-  68 


Trinity  College,  Oxford :  Newman 
enters  as  commoner,  i.  29,  32 ; 
elected  scholar  of,  33 ;  Newman's 
love  of  the  Chapel,  139.  ii.  341  ; 
Newman  made  an  honorary  Fellow, 
425,  et  seq.  ;  and  accepts  invitation  to 
visit  the  College,  429-431  ;  honours 
Newman  on  reception  of  Cardinalate, 
473  ;  Newman  sends  his  collected 
works  to,  525 

Trinity,  Doctrine  of,  in  relation  to 
'  Development,'  i.  172 

Trollope,  Anthony,  ii.  355 

'True  and  False  Infallibility,'  by 
Fessler,  translated  by  Ambrose  St. 
John,  ii.  373,  409 

Tycho  Brahe,  i.  404 

Tyndall,  i.  401.     ii.   332 

Tyrrell,  Henry,  i.  359  //.,  379 


Ullathorne.Dr.  (Vicar  Apostolic  and 
afterwards  Bishop  of  Birmingham), 
and  the  beginning  of  the  Oratory,  i. 
180,  181  ;  his  action  in  the  matter  of 
Faber's  '  Lives  of  the  Modern  Saints,' 
207-214 ;  and  the  Oratory  School, 
453  ;  desires  Newman  to  become 
editor  of  the  Rambler,  481  ;  his 
relations  with  Newman  and  the 
Rambler,  486,  492,  495,  499,  501, 
504,  570,  636.  ii.  128,  187.  Cen- 
sures the  Home  and  Foreign,  i.  544, 
et  seq.  His  appreciation  of  Newman's 
work,  ii.  36 ;  offers  Newman  the 
Mission  at  Oxford,  51  ;  his  views 
on  the  Oxford  question  undergo  a 
change,  52,  54 ;  regarded  as  a 
possible  successor  of  Wiseman,  87  ; 
identified  with  Newman's  views  in 
his  'Letter  to  Dr.  Pusey,'  112- 
113  ;  and  the  article  •  On  Consulting 
the  Faithful  in  Matters  of  Doctrine,' 
161-162,  171  ;  his  opinion  on  mis- 
representations of  Newman  at  Rome, 
184-185,  192;  and  the  Oxford 
Oratory,  123,  124,  126-127,  131, 
139,  141,  146-147.  149.  159.  160, 
180-181,  543,  550-551  ;  and  New- 
man's Cardinalate,  438-446,  582  ; 
final  meetings  between  Newman  and, 
531,  532.  Also  referred  to,  i.  204, 
219,  262,  273,  383,  418,  426,  487, 
502 «.,  640.  ii.  50,  51.  69,  125, 
129,  163,  170,  194,  316,  407,  425. 
480,  552-553,  561.     See  also  Letters 

Ultramontanism  {^see  also  Infallibility 
and  Liberal  Catholicism),  i.  19,  314, 
460,  et  seq.     ii.  64,  371,  seq. 

Union  Review,  i.  428.     ii.  1 17 

Unitarians,  i.  159-161,  l6S 


624 


LIFE   0¥   CARDINAL   NEWMAN 


Unity  of  Christendom,  ii.  81-82,  392- 

395 

Univers,  The,  i.  464-465,  550.  ii.  36, 
80,  212,  403,  439 

University,  Catholic,  for  England, 
wanted  by  Cardinal  Barnabo,  ii.  162  ; 
attempts  to  found,  195-198;  also 
referred  to,  189,  547 

University,  Catholic,  in  Dublin,  its 
bearing  on  Newman's  life,  i.  8-9, 
386-388  ;  its  foundation  decided  on, 
Newman  invited  to  be  Rector,  275- 
276;  origin  of,  305-310  ;  Newman's 
acceptance  of  Rectorship,  311-316; 
Newman's  preliminary  lectures,  316- 
318 ;  Newman's  early  difficulties, 
318-320 ;  question  of  the  ap- 
pointment of  a  Vice-Rector,  321- 
323  ;  formal  installation  of  Rector 
delayed,  321,  323  328 ;  the  sug- 
gestion of  making  Newman  a  bishop, 
328-333,  356-358,  385-386;  New- 
man goes  to  Ireland,  333 ;  atti- 
tude of  the  Irish  towards  the  new 
University,  333-337  ;  first  begin- 
nings, 337  ;  Newman  visits  the  Irish 
Bishops,  337-341  ;  installation  of 
Newman,  341  ;  opening  of  the  School 
of  Philosophy  and  Letters,  341 -344  ; 
the  question  of  the  University  Church, 
345-348  ;  the  University  Gazette, 
348-349  ;  the  Medical  School,  349- 
350  ;  Celtic  literature,  349-35 1  ; 
question  of  State  recognition,  351, 
628-629 ;  the  proposed  bishopric 
for  Newman  witlidrawn,  357  ;  diffi- 
culties with  the  Irish  Bishops,  359- 
363,  628  ;  want  of  public  interest, 
364 ;  Cardinal  Cullen's  part  in  bring- 
ing about  failure,  364  371,  380- 
384  ;  Newman's  proposed  resignation 
leads  to  his  becoming  non-resident 
Rector,  374-3S0  ;  its  relation  to  the 
English  Catholics  and  Wiseman,  383, 
384-386  ;  final  resignation  of  New- 
man, 445-450,  630-633 ;  also  referred 
to,  417,  418,  419,  458,  497,  568, 
644.  ii.  50,  136,  157,  186,  187, 
454,  517,  518 

University  Lectures  :  on  the  '  Scope 
and  Nature  of  University  Education  ' 
(republished  as  '  Idea  of  a  Univer- 
sity'), circumstances  under  which 
prepared,  i.  290,  315-316;  dedica- 
tion, 304 ;  Newman  asked  to  de- 
liver, 311;  their  delivery  and  suc- 
cess, 316-318;  their  purpose  and 
leading  idea,  390-392  ;  quoted, 
313,  368-369,  375.  ii.  558.  Also  re- 
ferred to.  i.  296,  327,  348  n.,  478.  ii. 
521.    'University. Subjects  Discussed 


in  Occasional  Lectures'  incorporated 
in  'Idea  of  a  University,'  their  aim 
and  scope,  i.  390-398;  inaugural  lec- 
ture on  '  Christianity  and  Letters,'  a 
plea  for  the  Classics,  342;  'Chris- 
tianity and  Physical  Science,' lecture 
on,  analysed,  399-401  ;  'Christianity 
and  Scientific  Investigation,'  its  aim 
and  argument,  401-408 ;  how  re- 
ceived, 408-409;  'Lectures  on 
Literature  '  mark  a  phase  in  New- 
man's style,  409  ;  main  lessons  urged, 
410-413  ;  '  Christianity  and  Medical 
Science,'  its  argument,  413-416  ;  re- 
ferences to  these  lectures,  34,  232, 
478,  512 

Urban  VIII.,  i.  145 

Ursulines,  i.  340 

Ushaw,  Newman  visits,  i.  Iii;  also 
referred  to,  102,  207,  316  «. ,  389, 
503.  510,  551,  616.     ii.  190,  489 


Vatican  Council  {see  also  Infalli- 
bility),  Newman  invited  by  the  Pope 
to  assist  as  a  theologian,  ii.  192,  281  ; 
Newman's  position  in  controversy 
about,  279,  et  seq.  ;  his  letter  to  Ur. 
UUathorne  denouncing  the  extrem- 
ists, 287,  et  seq.  ;  Newman's  state 
of  mind  during  progress  of,  552,  et 
seq. 

Vatican  Decrees  (see  also  Gladstone), 
their  bearing  on  Civil  Allegiance,  ii. 
401,  et  seq.  ;  also  referred  to,  45 

Vaughan,  Herbert  (afterwards  Cardinal), 
goes  to  Rome  on  Oxford  question,  ii. 
64  ;  his  opposition  to  Oxford  scheme 
makes  difficulties,  129.  Also  referred 
to,  i.  389,  514.     ii.  155,  490 

Vaughan,  Rev.  J.  E.,  see  Letters 

Vavasour,  Sir  Edward,  i.  133,  190 

Ventura,  Fr. ,  i.  171 

'  Verses  on  Various  Occasions,'  by 
Newman,  i.  51.    ii.  204 

Veuillot,  M.  Louis  (editor  of  the 
Univers),    i.    lO,    12,    19,    23,    417, 

463,  464,  483.  ii-  38,  79.  82,  108, 
112,  210-215,  501,  561 
'  Via  Media,'  theory  formulated,  i.  17, 
59  ;  finally  relinquished,  76.  Title 
of  Anglican  lectures  republished  in 
1877,  ii.  421  ;  analysis  of  Preface, 
421,  et  seq.  ;  also  referred  to,  374, 

497 
Victor  Emmanuel  seizes  Papal  States,  i. 

519,  et  seq.    Takes  up  his  residence 

at  the  Quirinal,  ii.  372 
Vigilius,  Pope,  ii.  556 
Vincent    of  Lerins   recognises  process 

of  development  of  doctrine,  ii.  590 


I 


INDEX 


625 


Wagner,  Rev.  Mr.,  of  Brighton,  ii. 
463.     See  also  Letters 

Walford,  Edward,  i.  142 

Walford,  Fr.  John  Thomas,  S.J.,  ii. 
266,  444.     See  also  Letters 

Walker,  Canon  John,  i.  96,  98,  108, 
no,  120,  177,  178.  ii.  43,  129, 
140,  230,  349.     See  also  Letters 

Wallis,  John  (editor  of  Toilet),  i. 
484,  498,  633.  ii.  229.  See  also 
Letters 

Walsh,  Thomas  (Vicar  Apostolic  of 
Midland  District),  i.  in,  133, 
197  n.     ii.  218 

Walsh,  William  (Archbishop  of  Hali- 
fax, N.S.),  i.  382 

Walshe,  Edward  H.  (Bishop  of  Kil- 
kenny), i.  338 

Ward,  Francis  Ridout,  ii,  85,  145. 
See  also  Letters 

Ward,  Mrs.  F.  R.,  see  Letters 

Ward,  Robert  Plumer,  i.  39 

Ward,  Sir  Henry,  i.  39 

Ward,  Wilfrid,  lectures  at  Ushaw, 
ii.  489 ;  meetings  and  conversations 
with  Newman,  490,  et  seq.  See 
also  Letters 

Ward,  Mrs.  Wilfrid,  ii.  528,  529 

Ward,  William  George,  on  Newman's 
influence  as  a  leader  at  Oxford,  i.  6, 
60,  61  ;  his  estimate  of  the  Uni- 
versity Sermons,  59,  418 ;  joins 
Tractarians  out  of  admiration  for 
Rome,  67,  68 ;  his  enthusiasm  for 
Tract  90,  72  ;  publishes  the  '  Ideal 
of  a  Christian  Church,'  79  ;  his  con- 
version, 84;  on  the  proof  of  Theism, 
169  n.  ;  one  of  earliest  contributors  to 
the  Rambler,  243  ;  asked  to  take 
part  in  Irish  University  scheme,  319 ; 
entrusted  by  Newman  with  transla- 
tion of  Psalms,  i.  419,  421,  422  ;  on 
Apologetics  in  Ecclesiastical  Semi- 
naries, 420,  421  ;  his  work  at  St. 
Edmund's,  389,  422,  571  ;  on  Fr. 
Faber's  writings,  423  ;  anxiety  con- 
cerning contemporary  speculation, 
445  ;  his  opposition  to  Liberal  Catho- 
licism, 458,  et  seq.  ;  his  opposition 
to  Acton,  470  ;  temporary  editor  of 
the  Dublin  RevicTv,  481  ;  his  oppo- 
sition to  the  tone  and  principles  of  the 
Rambler,  481,  490,  495.  ii.  62.  His 
reply  to  Oxenham's  attack  on  eccle- 
siastical seminaries  in  the  Rambler, 
i.  514,  et  seq.  ;  opposition  to  starting 
of  Home  and  Foreign  Review,  537, 
et  seq  ;  becomes  editor  of  Dublin 
Review,  546,  et  seq.  His  '  Ideal ' 
quoted  in  justification  of  Kingsley's 

VOL.  II. 


charge  against  Newman,  ii.  7.      His 
views  on    '  Mixed '    Education,  63  ; 
his  opposition  to  the  Oxford  scheme, 
64,  et  seq. ;  denounces  the  A,P.  U.C., 
81,  82  ;    his  extreme   interpretation 
of  utterances   of  Pius    IX.,    82-85, 
loi  ;      counsellor     of     Archbishop 
Manning,     87  ;      his     articles     on 
Infallibility   used   by   Pusey   in    the 
'  Eirenicon,' 91 ;  Pusey's  '  Eirenicon' 
affords    Newman   an   opportunity  of 
criticising      Ward's      views,       100, 
et     seq.  ;     consulted     by     Cardinal 
Reisach   on    the    Oxford    Question, 
122,  127  ;  his  renewed  opposition  to 
Oxford  scheme  in  1867,  129;  refuses 
to   sign  the  address  to  Newman  in 
1867,  144,    146  ;    Mgr.  Talbot's  es- 
timate   of,     147  ;    encouraged   by  a 
party  in  Rome,  153.     His  views  on 
Papal    Infallibility,  i.   25.     ii.    151- 
152,  212,  et  seq.,   224,   et  seq.,  402, 
552,  555.  565,  et  seq.  ;  his  claims  on 
behalf  of  the  Papacy,  225,  et  seq.  ; 
his  reply  to  Fr.  Ryder's  attack,  230, 
373  ;  attacked  by  Dupanloup,  286  ; 
a     member     of    the     Metaphysical 
Society,  332  ;  on  the  charm  of  New- 
man's manner,  348-349  ;  his  admira- 
tion of  the    '  Grammar  of  Assent,' 
273 ;    his    cordial   reception   of   the 
'  Letter  to  the  Duke  of  Norfolk,'  406, 
et  seq.,  565,  et  seq.  ;  of  the  Preface  to 
the  '  Via  Media,'  425.     His  relations 
with  Newman,  i.  19,  24,  537,  565,  et 
seq.     ii.  490  ;  Newman's  last  words 
concerning  their  estrangement,  495, 
496  ;  his  last  illness  referred  to,  520  ; 
death,  488.     Also  referred  to,  i.  39, 
94,    113,   134,   187  «.,  217  «.,  218, 
246,  262,  300,  637.     ii.  36,  38,  43, 
60,  79,  86,    104;/.,  107,    155,    156, 
164,   196,  198,  203,  374,  407,   433, 
552.     See  also  Letters 

Ware,  St.  Edmund's  College  (Old  Hall ), 
i.  102,  109,  303,  38S,  389,  419,  514, 
515,517,616 

Wareing,  William  (Vicar  Apostolic  of 
Eastern  District,  Bishop  of  North- 
ampton), i.  108,  133,   208 

Waytc,  Dr.  S.  W.  (President  of  Trinity 
College,  Oxford),  ii.  426-429.  See 
also  Letters 

Wcale,  Mr.,  i.  285 

Weedall,  Provost  H.  :  his  work  at 
Oscott,  i.  98,  1 19-120;  Newman 
preaches  at  his  funeral,  599,  601 

Weekly  Re^^ister,  The,  announces 
Propaganda  instruction  forbidding 
Newman's   residence   at  Oxford,  ii. 

S  S 


626 


LIFE   OF   CARDINAL  NEWMAN 


140-146,  151-152,  543.  547-  Re- 
ferred to,  i.  479,  510.  ii.  83, 
348  «. 

Weld,  Alfred,  S.J.,  and  the  proposal 
for  a  Catholic  University  College,  ii. 
195-197 

Weld-Blundell,  Charles,  ii,  195 

Weld,  Charles,  i.  634 

Wells,  Alban,  i.  214 

Wenham,  Provost,  i.  486 

Wesley,  Charles,  ii.  357 

Wesley,  John,  i.  45 

Wetherell,  Thomas  F.,  a  contributor 
to  the  Rambler,  i.  505  ;  resigns 
assistant  editorship  of  Rambler, 
508,  517,  532  ;  assistant  editor  of 
Home  and  Foreign  Reznew,  537, 
et  seq. ,  566.  Works  for  an  Oratory 
at  Oxford,  ii.  60,  65,  68,  143.  See 
also  Letters 

Whately,  R.  (Archbishop  of  Dublin), 
friend  of  Newman,  i.  4,  43,  85  ; 
influence  of,  on  Newman,  36,  37,  38  ; 
referred  to,  312,  372.     ii.  386. 

White,  Blanco,  friend  of  Newman,  i. 
4,  22,  38,  43  ;  Newman  on  his  auto- 
biography, 80,  81  ;  attacks  the 
Catholic  Church,  276,  278  ;  New- 
man lectures  on,  in  '  Corn  Exchange 
Lectures,'  i.  278  ;  also  referred  to, 
85,  364.     ii.  76,  348,  349,  487 

Whitgift,  Archbishop,  ii.  117 

Whitty,  Fr.  Robert,  S.J.,  i.  97,  99. 
ii.  450.     See  Letters 

Wilberforce,   Arthur  (Fr.   Bertrand),  i. 

344 
Wilberforce,  Henry,  friend  of  Newman, 
i.  40  n. ;  Newman's  desire  for  his 
conversion,  127,  et  seq.,  235,  et  seq.  ; 
Newman's  influence  on,  129,  et  seq. ; 
his  conversion,  238,  et  seq.  ;  editor  of 
Weekly  Register,  383  ;  requests  New- 
man to  write  for  PVeekly  Register, 
501  ;  and  Newman's  resignation  of 
Rambler,  e^oi,  502.  His  death,  ii.  387, 
389,  390,  414  Referred  to,  i.  17,  60, 
68,    138,    201,    233,  259    263,  264, 

295'  319.  330.  341,  344.  371.  373. 

479,499.     ii.  44,  104  ;/.,  140,    196, 

205,  248.  316,  342,  348,  413,   554. 

See  also  Letters 
Wilberforce,    Mrs.    Henry,  conversion 

of,  i.  239 
Wilberforce,    Robert,    1.  40,  42,   108, 

237,  623,  653 
Wilberforce,  Samuel,  i.  40  w. 
Wilberforce,  Mrs.  Samuel,  i.  127  «. 
Wilberforce,  William,  ii.  74,  413 
Wilberforce,  Mrs.  William,  ii.  413 
Wilds,  Rev.  W.,  i.  126,  253,  258 
Wilkins,  Serjeant,  i.  291,  297 


Williams,  Isaac,  Newman  visits,  ii.  75, 
338,  414.  Referred  to,  i,  74,  599, 
625.     See  also  Letters 

Wilson,  Mrs.,  see  Letters 

Wiseman,  Nicholas  (Cardinal),  confirms 
Newman  and  Oxford  converts,  i.  96, 
98  ;  advises  Newman  to  publish  the 
'  Essay  on  Development '  without 
theological  revision,  99,  615  ;  offers 
Old  Oscott  to  the  Oxford  converts, 
100,  loi,  103,  109,  113;  his  rela- 
tions to  the  converts,  105,  et  seq.  ; 
favours  Newman's  scheme  for  a  theo- 
logical seminary,  166 ;  acting  Vicar 
Apostolic  of  London  District,  197, 
216;  suggests  establishment  of  an 
Oratory  in  London,  216,  217  ; 
preaches  at  its  opening,  220  ;  present 
at  the  King  William  Street  lectures, 
252  ;  alarm  of  some  Catholic  priests 
at  his  '  go-ahead  '  policy,  252  ;  his 
'  Flaminian  Gate '  letter  provokes 
'  No-popery '  agitation,  254-255  ; 
issues  '  Appeal  to  the  People  of 
England,'  256,  257  ;  originator  of 
the  Hierarchy  scheme,  258  ;  supports 
Capes'  scheme  for  public  lectures, 
259,  262  ;  exposes  Achilli  in  Dublin 
Review,  278,  279,  280  ;  Irish 
Bishops  object  to  his  being  Chan- 
cellor of  Catholic  University,  319, 
369,  385 ;  suggests  to  Pius  IX.  that 
Newman  should  be  made  a  Bishop, 
328-331,  356-357,  385-  ii-  442. 
Invites  Newman  to  undertake  an 
English  translation  of  Scriptures, 
i.  10,  418,  426,  428  ;  illness  and  pre- 
occupation, 428 ;  his  triumphal  tour 
in  Ireland,  430,  431 ;  Newman's  eulo- 
gium  of,  in  the  Rambler,  431,  432  ; 
objects  to  articles  in  the  Rambler, 
479  ;  urges  Newman  to  edit  Rambler, 
481  ;  opposition  to  Rambler,  522,  et 
seq.,  532,  et  seq.;  pastoral  on  Tem- 
poral Power  referred  to,  524  ;  his 
public  criticism  of  Home  and  Foreign 
Review,  539,  et  seq.,  546,  et  seq., 
553;  Wiseman  and  Newman's  '  Essay 
on  Development,' 615.  Opposed  to 
Oxford  Oratory,  ii.  6o~6i  ;  death  of, 
and  Newman's  sermon  on,  72,  86  ; 
his  action  in  the  matter  of  the 
article  'On  Consulting  the  Faithful 
in  Matters  of  Doctrine,'  128,  157, 
170-173,  179,  187,  549;  Newman 
bears  testimony  to  his  '  readiness,' 
332,  Also  referred  to,  i.  83,  102, 
III,  120,  124,  143,  167,  177,  181, 
183,  207,  213,  228,  261,  297,  298, 
314,  326,  616,  635.  ii.  103,  104, 
161,  433.     See  also  Letters 


INDEX 


627 


Wood,  Samuel,  ii.  414 
Wood,  Mrs.,  i.  257.     See  also  Letters 
Woodgate,  Henry,  ii.  391,  414,  571 
Woodlock,     Bartholomew    (Bishop    of 

Ardagh),  ii.  464 
Woodmason,  Charles,  i.  120 
Woodmason,  Mr.  and  Mrs.,  i.  94 
Wootten,  Mrs.,  Matron  of  the  Oratory 
School,  i.  456.     Her  death,  ii.  413, 
414,  569 ;  also  referred  to,  324,  572 


Wordsworth,  William,  ii.  336,  354 
Wyse,  Mr.,  i.  308,  310 


Yard,  Fr.,  ii.  60 


ZoziMUS,  Pope,  ii.  556 
Zulueta,    Mr.,    afterwards 
Torre  Diaz,  ii.  192 


Count   de 


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